Hunting had always been part of the Sveijarn child; hunting for treasures that is.
Despite the fact she had begun to attend Scarlett's lessons to perfect her hunting technique, and that she was getting considerably better each time, she did not know if she had a real interest in becoming a Gamekeeper. Still, for the sake of her own mantainance, and to secure her spot in the pack, Maera had to stray from her usual treasure hunting to pursue real prey.
Even if the castle of glass that was the Glacier had held the Sveijarn brood as their sole rulers once, it had changed, if she didn't contribute she'd be kicked to the curb, regarless of who her parents were or weren't.

With her nose hovering above the snow, the lanky teen found herself straying from the core of the Glacier to one of the borders. As she unknowingy headed near the area where the feline prowled, her stomach churned, alerting her that something was not right. Curious as she was, Maera could not simply leave that feeling unattended, and despite the fact it would have been wiser to call for an adult, she pressed on, the familiar scent of the predator's species making her heart race and the hairs along her back bristle wildly.

Finally as she set her eyes on the dappled devil, the relative of the odious creature that had dared to take her brother, Larus, from his home she almost crumbled. While the image of the cat had been haunting her in her nightmares for months after the tragic event, as she laid eyes on the creature as it proceeded to dig up one of her pack's cache's, she realized she did no longer feel fear.

Instantly, and rather uncontrollably, the female's lips drew back into a menacing snarl. Without her crippling fear to stop her Maera then did the untinkable.
With her eyes narrowed into hateful sliths of hazel and her tail rising dominantly over her back the young Sveijarn marched right towards the thief, little growls and snarls escaping from the depths of her chest.

Get out she spat as she looked directly into the demon's feline's eyes, her rage not allowing her to weigh the dangers she was exposing herself to.

Maera had never been in a fight, she didn't know violence.
The wounds she had were not issued by claws or fangs but by the emptyness of words and broken promises; but even if the pain she had suffered had not been physical she doubted it would be much worse than the emotional one. With the fur on the nape on her neck standing on end and her chest puffing in an attempt to make her look larger she watched the devilish feline stand to face her, spitting words that as calm as they were felt like ice cold to the touch.

I don't care if you're done she growled, the bridge of her muzzle wrinkling to deform her beautiful features into an enraged grimace. Just like her species had not cared to tear a family apart, the young Sveijarn did not literally give a fuck damn about interupting the cat's meal.

With the image of her beloved brother suddenly fresh in her mind and her knees beginning to wobble from the mixture of rage, fear and sadness swirling in her brain she decided to cave to the enraged desires on vengance in her heart.
Even if the chance of this cat being the same one were nearly unexistent, she could not help but feel blind hatred for the whole species.

As the lynx leaned to get another bite of it's stolen meal, Maera lunged.
Guided by the rage broiling in her insides and by the instinct to protect what was hers she launched herself closer, her pristine set of fangs making an appereance as she snapped her jaw in the air with an audible, click.
A last, merciful warning for the cat.

Drunk on adrenaline, blinded by the thirst of revenge and a false sense of courage the young teen fell victim to a misleading coctail of emotions -- one that wouldn't come without a price. With her upper lip completely peeled of her teeth the wolf allowed another vicious snarl to rip from her throat. She was feeling invincible and untouchable and yet she was greatly offended by the feline's indifferent attitude.

One could not tear a family apart and not care.
Even if this was most certaintly not the lynx that had abducted her dear brother, Maera was grudgeful to the species as a whole. And as a clear specimen of the dreaded felines this cat, who with her indifference was pressing salt onto the wound, deserved nothing but her hatred -- a logic that perhaps only made sense to her shattered heart and rash spirit.

You're dead she declared boldly as she waved her tail over her back in a threatening motion before finally making the first move.
In a blur of furious red the female launched herself to the offender's encounter, her jaws parted and her razor sharp fangs aimed directly at the cat's scruff. Though she had never taken part in anything but mock battles, her strong instinct dictated that if she was to win she had to take the creature under herself first.