Fox's Glade like lawyers in a murder case

Spar with @Uki

     In the cresting zenith of noon, the sound of brazen flies and chirping, wild orioles was mellifluous for the beautiful glade of the ever-glorious Sundown Fox. Embry stood a subservient mass of undulating aureate hue; green orbs fluttering in callow delight upon the various mid-day blooms. Colors spilled forth from every ounce of the sweeping expanse, engulfing his mortal being in the divine pleasures of the Rising Sun Valley. Today had been one of rest and contemplation for the growing male, who indeed was in need of the blessed serenity the glade offered.

     Earlier in the morning, he had successfully landed himself the good meat of a small, juvenile hare - one in which he planned to feast upon at the 12-hour mark. It was beneath him to ask for more of nature than the simplicity of an honest loner just scraping by. Indeed, life was not as he had envisioned it to be at this point in time, but sitting in this meadow was certainly not failure,either, in his book.

     Who knows? His mind, the ever-present fiend of an accomplice, rambled on. Maybe I was destined to be here. 

     He furrowed his brow, shifting the limp body of his kill loosely within his paws.
     Or maybe not. He parted his jaws wide and planted the glistening whites of his canines deep within the ebbing warmth of lost vitality. 

     Rabbit... What an odd flavor. It occurred to him that the taste was vageuly reminescent of wolf.

Tupilaq woke around midday. She did so silently and suddenly, eerily opening silver eyes in the bright haze of Siqiqniq's glory. It took a moment for her eyes to stop smarting - accustomed as she was to the cool embraces of Tiqaqq's nights - but once they had the spearwife found silent feet. Underneath @Siarut (visibility) and his vigilant gaze, the rest of the Ateneq family - alongside some other misfits like herself - were sleeping soundly. The waif should have been sleeping, taking advantage of the break they were taking. Yet, the stop only seemed to feed her worries and further her desire to reach the glacier nanuk spoke of, to find home. 

She cast a glance at the bear as she left, her swift legs carrying her away from their resting place rather quickly. As she reached the line of trees, disappearing into it with little more than a white flash of her tail, the spearwife paused - her heart beating in her throat.

The same of other and male and blood mingled together on the wind and ignited her throat with a white-hot flare of territorial temper.

She follows the scent of him, un-perfumed by the smotherings of pack wolves, beneath the gloom of the thickly cloistered trees. Occasionally, sunlight falls through the leaves in such a way as to illuminate her path better but finally, she does find him.

The tundrian skulks into view, her willowy frame held tall and her ragged hackles only half-raised. Her tail flags briefly, not as high as nanuk's  would but more of a half-hearted twitch upwards. Tapeesa creeps forward, halting a leap away from the stranger. She did not bother him for food, as that was not her intention. She rumbled softly, her ears pricked alertly, like thunder. It seemed to say clearly, You must leave, now. He was far too close to nanuk's family and the sisters' children.

Tupilaq considered this fair warning and stood waiting silently, to see what he would do.

     Embry heard the sylph's light footsteps before he shifted his gaze; chewing the final morsels of his meal with little apparent interest in the approaching visitor. From what he had already gleaned from her light tread and the vague spoor of hostility emanating, she was hardly enough kilograms to account for. 

     When she finally approached, he licked his chops warily and lowered his ears. Sea-green orbs rose robotically from the ravened hare; reticent and somewhat withdrawn. As expected, this was only a girl. She wouldn't give him much trouble if she knew the laws of mass and survival.

      He raised an eyebrow in a small blip of amusement. Her grit was certainly commendable. 

     "Splendid cuisine, this glade has." His tone ambled along, clearly in no haste. He pointedly remained recumbent aside his kill; stature unwavering. I dare you to make me budge.

I'm not sure if this is correct, let me know if I need to edit anything. I just knew she was supposed to miss?

She had warned him.

The berserker is not a woman to offer second chances again. When his English comes, taunting by the tone of it, tapeesa does not outwardly seem to shift from defense to offense. There's an acceptance where she sees the challenge in his eyes, her eyes cloud with feral intentions and her lips peel back from over-long  canines.

Tapeesa gives him no chance to prepare, launching herself at him. The outstretched claws miss him, digging up only a handful of dirt, knocking him back but not injuring him. 

I know it can get pretty confusing. So far you've got the hang of it, though! :)

     Embry narrowed his gaze. The female was extremely stiff; stolid to the point of a vitreous appeal. Indeed, her phlegmatic disposition was unprecedented to the young man. It only vaguely occurred to him that he could be in the presence of a differing vernacular, and by then the situation had considerably escalated.
   
     He grunted as he was pushed backward; noting the naif's impulsive tactics with a disdainful grimace. The leverage of her body certainly could not match his enough to make the contact remarkable, but the event in and of itself was enough to ignite some passion within his apathetic heart. 

     Embry dug his hind claws hard into the earth, halting further motion and employing inertial forces that left his momentum now at a personal advantage. Dirt sprayed across his tawny pins. Omitting a low snarl, the boy surged into the tumble of his countered mass, heaving the muscle of his haunches into the swift plummet forward. The motion was by no means practiced, but he managed in the meantime to rake a clean gash across her shoulders, which he now held fastened beneath.

There's little the shove could do to harm him, larger than she and more solid. The only thing to show for her efforts is a gash across her shoulder, wrought by his anger from her attack. She stumbles back, out of reach, blood weeping from the wound as she moves. Dire fangs bared, she snarls with anger instead of pain as she faces him with unrelenting determination in her moonstone gaze. 

She waits until he comes to her the next time, missing again the blow she outstretches for his face. Angakkuq dances out of reach, attempting to tire him, rivulets of crimson blood now flowing freely from her shoulder. The strain has caused it to bleed openly but Tupilaq seems not to notice as she waits, watching with eerie silence, for him to approach again.

     Embry was pleased to have landed a mark, however the girl's agility outmanuevered him in frustratingly apt ways. He knew that sooner or later this wouldneed to be addressed, but as of yet it was unclear whether she was heading down the particular alley he had in mind.

     He spotted the blood draining in small rivulets along her shoulder within his peripheral vision, maintaining a direct gaze upon a location purposefully errant of his true interest. It was important in tactical engagements such as these to withhold whatever elements of surprise one might possess - in this case, eyesight targeting. 

     The male attempted to lunge forward in hopes of snagging into the wound. Furthering the pain might resolve any future conflict strength-wise. Unfortunately, he moved apparently too slow to successfully find contact with the wound again.

His eyes flick over her, just the tiniest tic but there. 

Tupilaq remembers nothing of what was at her back, save for the length of the flower speckled glade. The fight has taken the forefront of her mind and adrenaline has clouded much - including the pain in her shoulder. In the chaos, its forgotten and as he lunges for the wound, she surprisingly rushes to meet him - thudding against him with the dull pain of impact. She bounces off, practically, from the force she's thrown into it but his jaws snap around air where her body had been.

Tapeesa darts forward on quick paws, her jaws seeking to close around his throat but alas, her long fangs just miss him. She dances away, circling him again with a low rumble.  

     Adrenaline had run its course on the two wolves; both struggling upon impulse to reach a position more advantageous than the other. Admittedly, the two had done a wonderful job in fabricating a complex, albeit useless, show of snapping and circling. 

     Upon attempting to recoil, Embry had wheeled himself into a vulnerable position that left his throat - of all things - exposed to potential harm. Fortunately for him, his manuevers were successful in expelling the himself from the fatal wrath of the fae's canines.

     He took the opportunity to pivot while she was recovering in a circle; hoping to get in a cheap shot at the flank as he moved. The swipe cleaved only hair and, in effect, did nothing more than shear the skin. 

He sought to rip open her flank as he had her shoulder but like much of the fighting they'd done, it amounted to little. A stinging pain was felt where his claws brushed her skin but otherwise the spearwife was untouched. Tapeesa took the advantage of his swipe, again rushing towards possible pain when she should have fled, to collide with him again. 

While he was unbalanced from sweeping at her and from her shove, she took the chance to bury her fangs in the sensitive skin around his ears - biting savagely at what she could reach with saber-like fangs. She tasted the metallic, copper tang of blood and felt a rush of triumph at having avenged her shoulder. 

Fiercely, she would cling and dig her teeth into the easily shredded skin of his ears should he fail to retaliate or knock her off.

     The girl's fangs pinned deep into the cleft of his ear and purged him of a low, gutteral growl. Pain shot like icy tendrils through the nerves encompassing the affected fibers and tendons. 

     With a barbarous snarl, the brute twisted with jaws wildly thrashing for purchase amidst the exposed flesh left prone to his gnashing fangs. Warm, inky fluid pooled into the cleft between gum, tongue, and tooth. 

     Small trails of his own sanguine vitality laced the sides of his cheek and jawline; siphoning the liquid into neat drops along the bristled, glistening fur of his neck.

He manages to return her attack, finding purchase in the flesh of her neck. The northerner withholds a cry of pain, the only noise being an enraged rattle as she exhaled heavily. Blood pooled in the hollow of her neck, the own scent of it intriguing the savage as much as it repulsed her. Finding no relent as he wildly shakes her, bringing to image the oddly comical thought of a wolf shaking prey before delivering the death kill, the wild girl can do little more than clamp her jaws and hang on despite the feeling that her jaws will break in the process. 

Just as her teeth begin to feel as though they will crack under such pressure, his shaking halts for a moment and she finds the opportunity to lunge for his throat this time. She leaves a gash of her own in his neck - not life threatening or even serious but surely painful.

Bony ribs heaving with effort, she finds herself facing him again in wait of another onslaught.

     Embry could feel his heart thumping ever harder; pounding blood that throbbed and raged through his fresh array of wounds. His neck sent surprisingly potent sprigs of pain drumming throughout his chest. Grunting, the male grit his teeth and wrenched himself free of her clamped incisors.

     Indeed, he felt deprived of a victory that only seconds ago had been within his fangs. So damn close!

     He was losing patience with the match: he wanted an outcome; some sort of resolution. Either she would leave or he would make her. And yet, simultaneously, he was envigorated by the tide of battle. As always, he recieved something of a euphoria at the thought of matches such as these. 

     Flanks heaving, Embry shifted his weight to his hind paws and made a point of reciprocating the engirdlement. His eyes declared a challenge; if not somewhat of a bloodlust: come at me.

The frustration that rolls off him might have given her a sense of victory if she were a less determined wolf. As it is, the fight's not over yet and he's no more willing to budge than he was before. She stares him down, as resolute as she was before and when finally he faces her; Angakkuq does not let his challenge go unanswered. 

Seemingly gaining a second wind, she lunged for his honey-toned coat again. Her teeth find purchase in his side - seeking to saw free whatever chunks she can though this leaves him with little more than a savage scrape caused by her dire fangs. Her claws make better work of his broad shoulders and she leaves several puncture wounds behind.

The berserker sweeps at his face with one small paw as she backs away, seeking to end this tournament as soon as possible for her stamina surely is underdeveloped next to his. Should her mark land is dependent upon his next move.

     Embry suppressed the urge to howl out in pain. He jammed his teeth together and, instead, released only a single, heavy moan as she ravaged his side and shoulders. His chest now heaved from the extertion of the battle, and the increasing toll of his injuries.

     Damn that little piranha. He could feel the plethora of newly racked wounds stinging as sweat and dirt singed along their red and lacerated flesh. It had been a long time since he had employed the tactic, but now Embry found himself readily accepting the sweet, sweet discipline of ignorance. If he could just hold out until the end of the fight, he just might be able to forget about the pain long enough to use this brain of his. 

     When she swiped at him, his preoccupied mind snapped into overdrive: instinct urged jaw and tooth forward in pursuit of the exposed foreleg. Beneath the pearly whites of his embedded canines, Embry felt the muscle sink and dreamt of reaching bone. This was the perfect chance to do some real damage should he manage to hold his position. 

Her paw does not reach his sea green eyes as she had hoped - for tapeesa never claimed to fight fair, especially when so out-sized by an opponent - and she released a pained snarl as his fangs dig deep into her leg. She feels a strangely hollow pain, a harsh scrape, that she can't explain and imagines darkly for a moment that he reached bone - gouging a furrow in the grey-ivory of her leg bone.The thought causes the berserker, mad with the blood rage now,  to giggle hysterically.

Angakkuq leans forward, swift as a diving hawk, and bites him, right on the bridge of his nose - as if daring him to keep a hold of her leg but only if he wished to lose one of his pretty eyes in the process.

     Embry, triumphant at his hold, snarled at the small thud of her teeth against his snout. A small sprig of pain spread across the bridge of his nose. The urge to recoil was hard to resist, however his jaws only remained to clench ever tighter upon her outstretched limb.

     Hoping to avoid the imminent threat to his eyes and face, the male thrusted a paw hard into her cheek. He aimed to ram his claws into particularly her jaw and chin; warding off the daggers of her mouth.

     His hind legs were spread wide to absorb the new weight and strength required to maintain an iron grip. The muscles in his shoulders and neck clenched furiously at the absence of his preoccupied appendage. Nevertheless, he played the sadistic crocodile flawlessly.

the suspense

Tupilaq shouldn't be shocked that he keeps a hold of her limb, this battle is drawing to its close and they're both desperate to best the other, yet she is. Vaguely, part of her must even admit to being impressed at the fervor he fought with. Despite his persistence, he's not the first man tapeesa has clashed with nor is he likely the last. His paw falls heavy against her face, the low thud of his blow blocking out all noise and leaving her ears ringing. Angakkuq digs her fangs further into his face in response, clinging fiercer still as if to say I will not be shaken so easily.

Given that they were now locked in an embrace, his teeth locked in her leg and her own burrowed into the bridge of his nose - dangerously closer to his optics with each passing second. The tundrian snarled, sensing the end of their struggle drawing near, as if to challenge not only him but defeat itself.

Take my 100th :)
(and gg if this is it!!)

     The fight had been long and arduous; with both wolves pulling hard from their will and sacrificing much in the way of blood and sweat. His own breaths, which before were so calmly executed and preserved, now spilled from his lips with every great heave of his mangled flanks. 

     His strength was ebbing quickly, he realized. His hold, while still deep into the sinewous fibers of his opponent's leg, was slipping with every fresh wave of pain. Cursing, he prodded his forepaws deep into the earth and pushed himself backward; releasing his clamped jaws with at least the comfort of alleviated tension. 

     The large wolf looked strange in his flight: his body rolled backward in a half-twist as he caught himself. Indeed, he was vulnerable to what could possibly become the final straw in this myriad of onerous events.

Her offended limb burns, the flesh torn and bloodied, but the struggle to see who will first maim the other ends shortly after it begins. Trembling with both pain and fatigue, the tundrian watches him roll away from her on nimble paws. Her opponent is tiring as well - his amber sides heaving and his coat turned dark with blood. He won't last much longer and it's this knowledge that has her on his tail as he attempts to recoil from her fangs.

She tumbles into him, seeking to stop his progression - despite that it lacks finesse given her exhaustion. She pins him there, against the ground. She pants with effort - her energy spent - but her teeth find his throat. Blood wells on her tongue from her vise-like grip but her hold is not too tight to muffle the snarl that spills from her throat. The thunderous rumble seeps authority as it seems to command, Submit! 

     Embry's vision finally tremored. In a blur of motion, all of his energy seemed to dwindle into oblivion; powdering into a sublime residue. No longer could he find the proper mechanisms to sequester his army. His was the failure of an extensive front: so elusive to the swift prelude of defeat as to be snared, unawares, in the spider's web. 

     Upon the final thud of his body against the hard, earthen battleground, he gasped at the wrenching fit of overwhelming pain that blossomed across the summation of his being. He could only just conceive the notion that this would be the end. As unlikely as it had seemed only moments before, Embry realized that he had learned a valuable lesson in the life of a mercenary; that, indeed, defeat is plausible at any given moment. Sighing, he fell limp beneath his opponent. 

     Fine. It's over. You win. And then, at least she deserved the triumph. She was a skilled opponent, nonetheless.