The previous fight left Ying uncomfortably sore. She trudged laboriously through the snow, huffing as she went. Time reserved for recovery was limited; once the sun went down and the moon arose, she would have to hunt again.
She settled beneath a low-hanging tree and closed her eyes, content to indulge in momentary rest.
Exhaling, he finds himself wandering close yet away from the grasp of Neverwinter. This plot seems to have more traffic than those he’s been previous, seeing more wolves milling about than dust bunnies.
They tended to all be winter-colored. Maybe it’s just how the locals look in general. This time is no exception, as he barely misses the white coat of a wolf as she hunkers down underneath a tree.
The Wayfarer snorts in greeting.
The brute chuffed his greeting. Ying opened one eye to examine him — substantial in size, littered with scars — and quickly closed it, finding him to be unremarkable. After a moment's thought, she huffed and stood, shaking the traces of snow from her coat.
She did not make eye contact. Instead, the huntress sounded a bubbling growl and began to wander off, flagging her tail as a silent invitation for him to follow.
Eyebrow arches, the Wayfarer latches onto the invitation, following under the beckon of the siren as she lures him from her napping spot elsewhere. Where or why a mystery, but he is curious—and possibly dumb enough—to follow without word or sound.
The feelings of both irritation and arousal blossomed with his beckoning. She continued onward, tail lashing high over her back as her pace steadily increased. The growl did not fade nor falter, instead becoming louder as their game went on. What would he make of her display? Ying hoped that he would approach, so that an attack upon his person might be justified.
Intrigued he is as he follows after the siren’s call; a growl of his own starts to rise, grating unevenly against her own. Not a match that sung well together. And yet, he continues his approach, jaws snapping towards that flicking tail—though purposefully missing and catching air.
The invitation was accepted with an anticipated response. She turned back and snapped at the air between them, jaws wide as she turned her backside away. Her tail was still high over her back, though the message was clear:
if interested, must be willing to earn it.
Ying took a moment to examine his features. She gazed lazily about his frame, committing his features to memory.
Swift she is to spin from teeth to face him, inviting a challenge in which the reddish boy is keen to conquer. A smirk etches across his lips, jagged and unappealing in its nature. He lunges forth, aiming teeth to a cheek with the momentum of his bulk attempting to tackle.
He was large, but so was she. The attack came quickly; teeth bared, the brute barrelled into his opponent, partially downing her in the process. Her forepaws went up as she aimed to latch onto his throat, though the integrity of her hindlegs was waning. Ying could have easily been knocked onto her back in this position, were that still his intention.
Latch she does, seizing hold of his throat as he powers forth to have her on her back—forearms rising from the earth briefly before they meet the ground again. His barbaric actions cost him with the momentum furthering any injury she does in the process. A growl rumbles, vibrating against her hold, should she keep it.
He stood over, breath heavy on either cheek. The huntress stared up at him through forlorn gaze as a paw was lifted the scrape the length of his underbelly. Its path was slow, careful; in this position, she was painfully vulnerable. Ying did not know what he intended to do, but knew that whatever his choice, she would leave herself to his mercy.
A teasing paw drags along his underbelly, and he expects pressure to follow. Instead, it stays taunting. Strange the fire that wields with it, yet far from kindled completely. Pale gold eyes shift to stare downward. She surrenders to him. What do you want.
It becomes obvious the fight isn’t all she seeks, and Kratos is new to such dances.
The excitement continued to grow as he spoke his first words — What do you want? — and stares down, waiting expectantly for her reply. Ying did not want to give him her voice, nor did she care to share names; her paw continued on its path, stopping within reach of its end. She began to wiggle, hoping to snake from beneath his grasp and place herself into a position that might offer more clarity.
After their meeting (and whatever that entailed) was complete, Ying gathered her thoughts and left the unnamed stranger behind.