drawn toward the gutteral growls, svalla steps forth out of the night. prowling toward faust, eyes heavy with intent as she watches him latch onto bark. it tears from the tree, indents that would last for centuries. 

she grins, wild and competitive. "that's hardly an opponent, faust." comes her taunt. goading, challenging. fire lights in her veins at the prospect of a spar. like when they were young; except now faust was stronger. and yet, she did not hesitate. she would meet his teeth and blows with her own.

"let's see how you handle a real target, hm?" she circles him, muscles coiling beneath her pale coat. keen, sharp eyes watching him, trying to anticipate his movements.

svalla meets him with a crash of bodies, a low grunt that's pulled from the depths of her lungs. bracing herself for the impact, though it still rattles her. a push she tries to negate by digging her hind legs into the earth. ivory claws digging into soil, stopping her from sliding too far.

he isn't the boy she once sparred with, but that doesn't shake her, as she isn't the same girl. stronger now, honed. she does not bow; and she will not. 

"there you are," she goads him with a lash of her tail. raised with a confidence that oozes through her veins. a fury brought to life again. she counters with a shove, before her jaws are snapping at his scruff. clashing yet again with a ferocity of a wilding meeting a man forged from steel.

good. she didn't wish to spar the boy, but wished to witness the fury of the man. heat rushes through her veins—a mixture of allure and wrath. heady, consuming; the fire of it dances within wild eyes. narrowed with pupils pinpointed—honed in on her target. 

her teeth pierced the flesh of his scruff, a trickle of his blood trailing down her throat. he tastes divine. jaws setting and locking, she holds her latch. she does not whip and tear—not yet. 

instead, she uses it as an anchor. the air leaves her lungs in a heavy exhale, her breath hot against his fur. toned legs tensing to counteract the weight of the shove. he wouldn't knock her down so easily. 

she released the hold only when his fangs snag on the flesh of her flank. a slight tear that stains the white of her side. she whips away from him with a wheeze of a laugh, maw stained red as she smiles wild. tongue curling against her lips to savor the metallic tang. 

she goads him with a sway of her tail. "enough dancing, faust. fight." she needs to feel his fury. she wants to bend beneath his weight, only to refuse never to kneel.

her fury is meth with his steel. wildling crashing against wildling; a battle that would linger with time. one long overdue. she not only welcomed the pain he would inflict; she savored it. a tinder that once simmered now an inferno. Svalla did not wish for him to treat her as if she was something delicate. she wanted him to meet her with teeth, with muscle. with a rage that ignited something primal. a heat in her veins that wasn't just the thrill of the fight, but something deeper.

"kominn tími til." she muses with sharp tongue. "i am no girl, faust. do no insult me." a snarl, wild and true. and he does not; not now. another ram against her side that sends her toppling; his claws catching against the skin of her throat, bathing the ivory with a deep red. blood that would stain as a reminder. Svalla hits the ground with a rough exhale, her paws flying to press against his trachea. keeping those jaws of his away from her while putting pressure against his throat. her smile is feral and wild; her eyes even fiercer. 

she wishes to feel it all. each shove, each bite, each tear. to feel him in his prime; to witness his strength in full. it was a dance she knew well. a challenge she would not refuse. the last time he'd had her pinned, Faust had scolded her. forced her into submission. she would not allow it again. she kicks, aiming for his soft underbelly, all while snapping upward to aim for his muzzle.

the sight of his blood rolling through dark, wild fur is enough to make something primal bloom within her. it broils and aches; a seed planted that only he could cultivate. a yearning for more than just war and victory. her breaths are heavy and hot, exhaled into thick plumes as he retaliates. it is expected; he is a man that will not bow so easily. a force that would not break. it is a fact that doesn't deter her. it only makes her fight harder.

she is not on her feet for long. the heft of him crashes against her chest with bruising force. she hopes she aches in the morn; she wishes to feel this fight even long after the dust has settled and a victor been named. Svalla is knocked off balance quicker than she could anticipate. far quicker than she could have reacted. her back crashes into snow and frozen earth alike; a plume of glittering snow cloaking them. blinding her vision. but she can still feel him. strong limbs move to find his body, to set claw into fur as an anchor.

to keep him away from her pale throat is all she needs, but she struggles beneath his fury. there is no disappointment, no shattered ego. there is satisfaction, as he was always meant to win. her smile is wild, her eyes of ice even wilder. she manages to lift her upper half from the ground's embrace, jaws snapping for his throat.

the battle finished with Faust declared the rightful victor, her blood still rushed. a sacred, primal hymn that was a thunderous rush in her ears. her heartbeat frantic and wild, strong and unrelenting. she did not fight him any longer as she ease beneath his bruising weight, as a true warrior always knew when to lay their arms to rest. his victory did not wound her, even as a wildling raised to never bow but to break. and it is because deep down, past the fractures and facade she wears, she needed this. needed this loss, needed this connection that sprang forth.

she takes her loss with pride, not with ire. pale fur wild, stained, and unruly; dried blood settling against her skin. wounds she would tend to long after, as for now she embraced the pains and aches. his teeth lay near her cheek. it ignites a new fire within her, one less battle-hungry and more yearning. she is satisfied for now. her laughter bubbles between them, winded but no less true. "there is the man i missed," she muses. eyes searching for his to hold, her paw gliding to rest where his heart beats in his chest.

it's beat is heavy beneath her touch. true. she doesn't speak for a moment as she just listens, feels. "you haven't changed." came her heavy murmur, followed by a smile not so wild.