she hates 'pretty' places.  they're an eyesore; never mind that she, too, sticks out like a bee-stung paw pad.  what's more is that banshee's in her usual emotional state:  pissy and bored.  when she goes too long without something to do or someone to harass, she starts to become the equivalent of hungry but for chaos.  so, like a shadow creeping through the grass, she advances on the meadow, trampling over the flora indiscriminately.  at least it's dark -- not that the lack of the sun would do much for her sable and silver coat against this backdrop.  she snorts irritably; although, the rapid intake of breath that follows rewards her with the scent of someone new.  their smell is fresh, which means they either just left or they're still close by.  looks like she just found her newest source of entertainment.

a smirk creases her mouth as she sinks low to the ground and begins to stalk forward. she intends to try to sneak up on him, maybe even give his ankles or tail a little snap.  in case it isn't already abundantly clear:  yes, she is an idiot with a massive glitch in her 'self-preservation' programming.

from what she can tell, the object of her amusement has no idea she's here.  withholding a snicker of delight, she continues to creep forward before launching herself using her powerful hind legs.  she's hoping to snap at his tail -- not with enough force to cause any real harm, more to scare than anything else.  banshee won't try to hold onto the tail if she catches it, either.  she intends to provide a quick little nip prior to skittering away into some brush.  quickness is all she's got going for her, especially given how huge this other wolf is.

devilish joy surges through her, laced with adrenaline. she's not only able to nip at this wolf's tail but get away. it's proof to herself that she's only getting better in sneaking. take that, pops, is what she would say to her loser of a father -- except she's much too busy being cool  and excelling at everything she does. in the midst of her inner boasting, though, she does realize the stranger is calling out to her. he doesn't really seem all that pissed or even annoyed. huh. that kind of takes the fun out of it. "depends on who's askin'." she barks from her hiding place, mismatched eyes narrowing in donovan's general direction. it's evident from her tone that she's still fired up and ready to go.

"that's all you big lugs wanna do is fight," she prattles on abrasively, her voice loud and cutting like breaking glass. "you couldn't even catch me to fight, edgelord.  i'm too fast." banshee boasts brazenly, her tail arcing like a flag over her back in a show of pride and dominance.  she can see him approaching, despite the brush, and her muscles start to pulse with adrenaline.  she's poked the bear; now she gets to reap the benefits.  her canines poke out from behind her lips, and she tears out of the bushes, a flash of stygian lightning. "come on then! keep up!"

surprisingly, he's pretty fast. though she won't say it out loud, she is impressed. she always assumes big muscular wolves are all power and no speed. that's just as well, though, because simply outrunning a wolf is never any fun. where is the rush in that? his 'threats' certainly do add to the excitement of the chase.

"i bet i taste like a skunk's ass!" she calls over her shoulder mockingly, feeling the heat of his breath against her thrashing tail. banshee's tongue lolls for a moment before a crash of laughter explodes from her chest. she's able to put just about a tail's length between her and donovan -- which makes it all the more invigorating. it's nice to have an opponent who can at least keep up. "you're not so bad for a muscle-wolf! who knows? maybe you'll get to eat my dust."

banshee feels on top of the world.  he may only be one or two tail lengths' away, but she's in the lead, and that's all she cares about.  if she had fists she'd be pumping them both up in the air in triumph right now.  she only slows when it's clear he's finished with their chase.  the coywolf watches with interest as he tries to catch his breath.  she's breathing hard, too, but it's much more controlled.  she's always been built for running.

"what's your game?" she demands impatiently, her tail still arced over her back while her scruff remains puffed up.

banshee is a wolf of few skills, and she's just about exhausted all of them.  her narrowed gaze watches him for a time; however, she's unable to anticipate what he does.  when he jolts toward her, biting her lightly on the shoulder, she fluffs up again, spooked but playing it off like she had known it was coming.  just like that, she's all fired up again through a second wind.

"you wanna fight?" she barks out the words, her tail waving like a flag behind her. "don't count me out just 'cause i'm small." it's a threat she often makes -- one that's baseless at best. banshee's muscles bunch up, and she launches herself forward.  her jaws seek purchase on the part of his left-side face with the most fat to grab.  it's brief, more of a pinch, and then she tries to pull back.  originally, she had intended to hop from left to right, staying in motion to make herself a more difficult target, but her legs are too tired.  she unknowingly leaves herself vulnerable for a counterstrike.

"Call me Banshee, or don't call me at all," Even in the face of a wolf much bigger and stronger than she, Banshee doesn't flinch.  There's a fire in her eyes that spreads down to her toes.  She's reckless and volatile with one of her greatest vices being the thrill of conflict.  When Donovan manages to get a good nip on her flank, she takes it in stride.  There's pain, sure, but he's toying with her.  Maybe she can provoke him into a real fight.

Deciding she is finished with puppy play-fighting, she weaves around, wily as a fox.  She'll never be able to outmatch him, but she can at least try to leave her mark.  Banshee goes for his face, not aiming for an eye to blind or anything fatal but to snap and pull to flay something, anything -- be it on his cheek or muzzle.  She's looking to actually spill blood this time.  With a Chesire's grin accompanying her assault, she snickers, "Oops." Though it's abundantly clear the abruptly vicious nature of the attack is fully intentional.

Banshee has no clue what she's gotten herself into.  One moment, she's on top of the world.  In her mind, she's bested this brute of a wolf.  Despite their size difference, she's managed to win.  It's in this state of mind that he begins his assault.  His technique is much more practiced than hers could ever be.  The way he seamlessly moves, distracting her and then flipping her bodily onto her back -- she could never.  She lands with an 'oof' and the air knocked briefly from her lungs.  He stands above her, the very blood she had poured dripping onto her face.  Being the brat she is, she snorts.

"Yeah, yeah, we get it. You're big and strong," she mocks, always the sore loser. "Lemme up." It's a demand, not a request. "What'd you say your name was, anyway?"

"You got rocks in your ears, dude?  I said it's Banshee," she retorts with a flick of one of her large ears.  Banshee gives her ragged pelt a shake and sneezes one of his blood off and out of her nose. "Fuckin' around. Doin' what I want," the loner boasts, standing on her tiptoes as though she has any chance of matching Donovan's height. "What about you? You one of them pack idiots?"

When he moved forward, he towered over her so thoroughly that it was actually hilarious (not to Banshee, mind you).  She pretended it didn't faze her, but she did have eyes.  She could see with these eyes, too.  Alright, so, he was big.  And?  She remained stubbornly set in her view that she was better, regardless of who was bigger or who 'won' the 'fight.'  She outran him; that was what actually counted.  Slow wolves always lost the race.

"Piss on your face," she answered crudely, tail lashing. "What kinda pack you in, then, huh?  One that makes you lick some Alpha-douchebag's toes?  I'm embarrassed for you."