Moonspear Wake and pace the hall

It was only in closer quarters that she noticed the scars that had been lashed across his back and shoulders, but she hardly had time to get a good look at them. She felt a momentary shock of satisfaction flood to every nerve ending in her body as her teeth ripped into his flesh and shredded the delicate skin of his freckled face. Despite this gratifying jolt of near-delirious glee she had never before experienced, she instinctively knew even as he reacted that she would be pushing her luck if she continued to fight. Her single best move was the element of surprise, and Sassafras was sure she wouldn’t be able to use it again. He would sense and better predict her movements now than she would his, so it was now or never if she wanted to make her escape.

It didn’t happen before she lost her hold on him and his teeth sank right into the tender crook between her left shoulder and neck. She gave a shrill, panicked yelp and tried to shrink away, but she knew he had a firm enough hold there that tearing away from him would cause serious damage and blood-loss. She counted herself fortunate that her bladed hackles and excess skin were there to protect her, but she felt no less pain for having the armour bonus. His left leg was placed to apply pressure to keep her head down and there was very little of him that she could reach. With a jerking attempt to dislodge his balance, Sassafras threw her head up, then side-to-side with all the strength she could muster like a rearing, disgruntled filly, and grappled at him with bared fangs once again to rake at his flank or underside. Succeeding at such a feat in her position would hardly harm him, but the whites of her unnerved eyes were showing as she considered what might happen if she couldn’t.