Silvertip Mountain watch the oceans rising high

Impact! It was sweet, but terribly brief; Tonravik released, and followed the creatures downfall to ensure that the girl would, in the end, die; her blood was sweet on her lips, but she truly did not tear into her as she had desired, did not rip off an ample amount of flesh. No, she was able to grab and use that grab to shove, and there was little blood to be gained at all, from that. Truth be told, Tonravik was not at all altogether sure that this was not her own blood. Perhaps it was a healthy mix. She had slammed into the other, so perhaps she had bruised her gums. In that moment, she was numb to it.

She heard the crash, and followed it to the source. Tonravik wasted no time at all; the girls flanks were heaving, and nothing was broken. That was truly miraculous, but stranger things had happened. She does not attack again, yet; she waits. She waits for the other to gather her bearings. To realize that her life was in the hands of Tonravik, now. She was close, very close; in an instant, she could be upon the other again, squeeze that vulnerable throat between teeth that hungered to break and ruin. She smells the herb that had been upon her (which meant nothing to her), but she also smells the pack she runs with. Name, she snarls, impatient now.