Barrow Fields give me the bed of bloody arrows

She barely misses the snapping teeth upon her darting to the other side, swaying back and forth as the other collects themselves and offers a braced stance in her wake. A sneer forms on her features as she keeps moving on slower feet, waiting for the right moment, waiting to see if she can taunt the other forward, but something inside urges her to drive forward. Maybe the need to chase off the wolves living in their back yard takes over and the fact there is not another to bolster her strength (and she doesn’t have her own, either, and so she doesn’t mind terrorizing her new plaything).

Thuringwethil does not wait much longer when she realizes the other isn’t going to advance. It’s up to her to get rid of the parasite leeching onto them. A low growl starts in her chest, growing as she begins to launch forward and close the distance and ends in an earth-shattering snarl when she’s close enough, teeth parting to snap at the first thing she latches onto as she aims directly for the other bitch.