Dragoncrest Cliffs the stars are blazing

It takes longer than Thuringwethil prefers, but it happens and it is barely enough. An effort, if only to save his hide rather than submitting to her power, gives him the advantage to avoid being kicked out on his ass. Her gaze hardens even after he turns his eyes away, attempting to smooth his coat and lower other points of his body to make himself look somewhat smaller. Her growl lowers to a quiet vibration in her chest and her posture does not change, despite the strain it puts on her ribcage. She holds her shoulders squared and her feet steady in place.

“Get out of here, branwoda,” she sneers with a daring quirk of her brow.