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She'd had enough. Gathered enough evidence.
She would have followers and support, she'd command it. She was better than an insolent child. Some will support that.
She moved with power and purpose, tail curled and high. She chose her place: The Dead River.

She called, commanding @Hela to come to her. A challenge. She'd not take no for an answer.
it had not been unexpected. the woman's sulking, petulant remarks had been obvious enough signs of her disdain for the new warlord, her disrespect made glaringly obvious at the last hunt. and so when the girl came, it was swiftly and without pause. she spills down the rocky riverbank, the silence reminiscent of a place she'd long since left. she is rage and hate and authority, utterly silent as she lands lightly before the woman, and in one smooth motion lunges directly for her face, fangs bared and made to tear, to rend.
rolled an 11!
She came skittering down and swept right into the predicted action - going for the face. She'd seen how she fights when angered with the coyote and knows that she is angered now as Vanity stands against her. 
Vanity in return spins herself around, presenting her hind as a target.
Teeth sinking into the hip, tearing the flesh and some muscle. But she knows what would make her fail this assault completely and that would be letting her precious areas be exposed.

But now, because of her position, she couldn't turn very well. Vanity tired to lunge, causing more damage to herself and only landing a small, fleeting bite on Hela.
her grip lands, albeit not where she'd hoped. it does not matter, fangs will do their work just as well on whatever target presents themselves to her. eery is the utter silence with which the warlord moves, fury and hate powerful motivators she seeks to overcome none the less. no matter her ire, she had learned time and time again that fights fought in emotion were ones she did not oft win. 

glancing grip tears away fur, and so she releases her hold and drives her shoulder into the woman's side, fangs aiming for Vanity's scruff as she attempts to shove her sideways into the dirt.
The girl released her grip to slam into Vanity's shoulder, teeth seeking her scruff. 
She latched on like a leech. 
She staggered but forced herself to not let her shoulder go down. She twisted her head, hoping to get her own hold on her. How was she losing (damn dice)? She'd planned this, analyzed her.
Damn Black Hat.

Alas, Hela pushed her shoulder down, and Vanity twisted, hoping to cause Hela harm and get her feet under her. She could kick her off like a lynx. She refused to make any noise of pain, biting harder into Hela to stop this.
the woman swings around, grabbing hold of her shoulder. her intent is made clear enough when she latches down, and in a moment pain throbbed from where she had set her fangs. it burned; but the girl had learned to fight through it, and her grip would not be relinquished because of the damage the woman inflicted now. instead, she gathered herself, attempting once more to ram against the woman while twisting her grip, hoping to painfully twist the skin of her nape, the pain Vanity inflicted only having her grit her fangs harder.
Vanity was losing blood, she could feel it trickling down her thigh.
She was going to lose this fight, there was no way she could win. Hela had the upper hand and Vanity was just not hitting the marks today.
But she wasn't about to roll over and be butchered like Venny.

She twisted her rear end around, forcing herself up and moving her teeth higher, latching further up Hela's neck. She shoved, trying to get an advantage the best she could. Make Hela scared, try and get her to make mistakes.
make them bleed. it was what he'd told her to do, and so, ultimately, had he. she desired to do much the same to Vanity, and while killing her crossed her mind as a quick and fierce desire, it was quickly cast aside. she dealt with the murder of Vengeance by not thinking about it, and was in no hurry to add another name to her list. 

Vanity shoves forward; she realizes her opening then. it is time to end this, decidedly, and so she wrenched the woman further alone in the direction she'd decided to push her, before abruptly changing direction and ramming her sideways, a display of brute strength she hopes will end with the woman pinned to the earth.
The woman was downed, forced down by another with a huge size.
Braun, not brains.
She huffed through gritted teeth, water welling in her eyes at the pain now flooding her senses. This wasn't over; she'd lost, but Hela had gone too far before.

She wished she'd had more prior training with those larger than she. Like Venny.
She snarled at Hela, warning her not to act further. If Vanity wanted to continue until death, she'd still be struggling. She avoided Hela's eyes and her tail lay flat aside from the irritated feline flicker. This was done, and so was she. Hela had won, and Vanity would try again someday.
Soon. 
she feels the fight ebb in the woman, but can not feel any great pride in her victory. the fact that she'd need to claim it at all is an obvious sign of the still-lingering discontent surrounding her leadership. when it is clear that the fight is at end, the woman steps back, relinquishing her hold and turns back to the woman, stalking toward the borders without a further word.