Wolf RPG - crack baby, you don't know what you want

AW, but hoping to work on the mercenary trade! <3

Swiftcurrent Creek had little in the way of a designated training ground. Among the swaths of tallgrass and cedarwood of the densites, however, lies the thick forest of spruce just adjacent to the creek itself.
And that, today, is where Wren wanders. Or rather where she had spotted a low-hanging branch, and where she is now trying to fight said branch.

Warriorship was a possibility stolen from her from the moment of her birth. She was a woman; women were not soldiers. They are soft and curved and emotional in the sharp eyes of her father. Their place on this earth only to produce more soldiers, more heirs to the clan's great dynasty.
But she had observed. Oh, she had watched from afar as the men trained, sparred amongst themselves, and with her childish wonder she willed herself into their shoes.

With her coming-of-age and filled-out muscles, the desperate desire to hone in on her instincts and her birthright calling grow and fester. And so here she is now, bending her knees before she lunges yet again for the branch, and yet again missing it by just a graze. Goddammit!
Apparently, she sucks at everything lately.

Win’s leg had healed, but she wasn’t herself just yet. Her hips were still visible, her ribs poking through her thin summer fur. She was trying to pack back on the pounds, but it was far from easy.

Her scarred back legs were still hard to look at sometimes, but scars would fade she knew.

So, when she came across the woman, trying desperately to fight a branch of all things, she blinked for a moment, then opened her big fat mouth.

You got, like, a blood feud with that thing or some’n? That was the only reason she could see for trying to fight a whole ass tree.

Ah, of course. One of the newbies. And not just any newbie, but a little golden girl with a smart mouth.
As if being the smartass wasn't Wren's job.
She comes back to the ground in a great big thump, tail swishing behind her in agitation. She takes a long look at the young woman; a limp to her gait, a cobweb of scars covering her limbs. A frail little thing. Wren felt herself akin to a bear next to her.
I'm training, she chuffs, tongue passing over her upper lip. yah got any better ideas? You look like you could use some muscle yourself, there, beanpole. A strong gust of wind could make you disintegrate into a pile a' bones.

The woman was damn quick with her tongue, but then again…

So was Win.

She put on her most winning smile (a sloppy, sideways grin) and padded forward a few steps, well aware that one wrong step would end with her eating ass in the dirt.

’s all natural. She’d always been a thin boned creature, a bird in flight, all hollow bones and sharp beak.

Perhaps that analogy was more in line with her sister. Ophelia had always been…flighty.

Yeah, maybe don’t fight branches. You fight the wrong one, you’re gonna end up being launched at some point. A roll of bony shoulders.

’s there nobody who breathes round here that you can wrestle with? Or are you limited to foliage?

This one was witty. Perhaps any other day Wren would have laughed, proclaimed her enjoyment in her ability to talk back; except for the fact that she was not in the mood for this shit.
Alright, smartass, a painfully exaggerated roll of her eyes is given, along with a snort. you gonna sit there and mock me like a snot-nosed brat with no self esteem, or are you gonna give me advice? Because I sure as hell didn't come here to be yapped at by a little piss-baby. Scowling with a knit of her eyebrows, she barks out a sneer. Oh, dear little songbird, how you will probably regret these anger-tinged words within the hour. What? You wanna spar with me yourself? Or are you afraid I'll snap your spine like a twig?