Fox's Glade Time to play

For @West Tyree, although pups may come along too either to observe or have West defend.

Life was still, quiet. The persistent storms seemingly causing everyone to either flee the lowlands to higher ground or they had hunkered down, safe within their hollows and burrows. The mice did not stir, the rabbits, the birds... Rosina would be left to wonder if it would be the same for her neighbors.

The beautiful glen was just north of her home and just east of that lay the vast, open landscape of the Easthollow meadow. She danced along the edging between meadow and glen, looking out over the flatlands that were not waterlogged. In the distance, the rocky formations of boulders loomed.
Rosina wondered why the wolves had decided to live in such an open land. It left them exposed. Then again, it made getting to them without being seen just as tricky.

This night however, Rosina danced freely, happily, white tail waving up to the heavens. The sky was scattered with heavy cloud but this night the bright moon shown through, casting a glow over Easthollow's haven. The rain was light, a pitter patter on the long grasses around her as the little witch began to sing.

It had been quiet when the rain settled in, no attacks, no deaths, prey spent more time hidden away but they too had to leave to eat eventually. It was almost as if the meaning of peace had been forgotten until all that was left had gone silent. Nevertheless, West was thankful for the change the rain gave. Everyone in Easthollow could use the quiet, though the rain was now growing old.

The woodland boy trudged along the borders of his home, wet, but for once not soaked straight to his bones. The water weighed his pelt down but it's something he had long since become accustomed to. It seemed that today too would be quiet until he skirted the edges of the nearby forest. A voice seemed to ring out past the trees, distant but present. Casting a glance to his surroundings, the boy found himself alone and thus turned to follow the mystery siren without a word.

It was pure curiosity that drew him forth, though as the singing became more clear along with the words he couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine. For a moment he nagged himself to turn back, but the thought was quickly shoved away as he traveled further, suddenly glad he had continued. It was her. Even in the dim light of the moon, he could tell. A snarl ripped from his throat as the fur along his neck and spine bristled. Did ya forget what happened last time you came near my home?

Soon, soon the little witch would enchant a child by her song. Drawing it forth from the protection of its valley and into the glen which outskirts their territory. Though it was not a little pup which she had hoped for, no. Though he was still but a yearling, the wolf was far larger then she and her dainty little self. His acidic attention one she remembered all too well enough. 

My mind is still yet sharp, that it is. She was not at all old, not by a long shot. And he who had aging leaders far older then herself should know being older did not always mean becoming weakened with it. 

She turned directly to him then, now that she had been interrupted of her song. Her plush tail flicking upward in the air and she regards his snarled up expression with a huff. Now, now, why so serious? She grins, a laugh. I only want to play!

She infuriated him, a jab at what he could only assume was her attempt to break the ice. If her mind was sharp she would have steered clear of Easthollow. unfortunately, she did not, and instead, here she stood a grin plastered on her face as she let out an airy laugh. Was she taunting him? Was this just a game to her? He wasn't interested in playing whatever fucked up game she had going in her mind, he wanted her gone.

Another snarl ripped from his throat as he took a step forward, then another, You'll regret ever "playin'" with me. He was done talking, he didn't want to hear her excuses. She was after kids, his cousins, his family. Well no more, this time he'd make sure she never sought out his home again. West charged, paws hammering against the ground as he bore his fang. Whatever this was it was a new feeling, a rage like no other that burned deep within his soul. As he neared, his jaws snapped attempting to latch onto whatever he could grab.

And that is was for her, a game. Although it never would occur to her just what all might happen of she did not win it. Then again, what wicked witch were in their right mind to begin with? 

He snarled again, took a step (which she stepped back against) and another, and spoke something that had the damsel frowning and quite frankly, off put with how horribly rude he was being. Why, she hadn't not yet crossed his borders yet either and still, here they were! 

He charged, and she jumped, using every bit of quickness in her to dodge out of the way, sending only white furs of her puffing out into the dewy air. What a hateful boy you are! she cursed to the yearling, a hiss from her now wrinkled mug. If she had just left, as quick as she had before, she would have done well. But she had a craving, and it had been for far too long...

She supposed he was still quite young enough. Still growing, still pure and he was rude and oh, how she hated the rude! So she too would charge forth, jaws agape. But she was not a powerhouse, not by far, and so aimed to dance around him, circle and wind him. She would snap for his ankles, his tail, his groin and perhaps far to closely, his face...

His jaws snapped but only air would meet his bite. He had almost forgotten how quick she could be, it was after all how she escaped him the first time and it only irritated him more. Luckily for the woodland boy, the witch did not run this time, no she turned to face him as she spat her own poison. West snorted as she sped up, her jaws now seeking purchase on his own hide, I'm only hateful when it comes to punks who think they can take whatever the hell they want!

He didn't even attempt to dodge as her fangs neared. She was fast, and he could be clumsy, but if she was already close then he was 10x more likely to land a blow if not grab her. Biting back a wince as teeth embedded into his skin, West turned quickly and tried to shove his weight into the small woman. If he was fast enough his fangs would seek any of her limbs, anything that would slow her down should she turn tail now.

He just needed one good hit, one good stun. It almost ached at the thought of waiting for that perfect moment where it would no longer matter. When it came though, there would be no holding back.

He didnt move, only looking to and fro in order to keep up with her movements as she danced around him, striking his legs, his soft under belly, his muzzle and hopefully enough to leave a mark well to remember her by. Though perhaps getting in too close was her downfall, for the moment she finishes slicing at his snout he slams himself forward and into her, causing her to topple over in the process. 

She doesnt flail, but tucks and rolls with the punches so to speak, though in her rolling he grabs her front ankle. He doesnt hold a grip on her due to her movements, as her body (and limb) whip around and she scrambles to her feet again.  

Ribs sore. Her ankle now sliced quite nicely open and sprained, she stumbles on her three remaining limbs with her injured leg lifted. Do your worst now then, boy. She spat, her head low, tail raised high, readied. Because I promise you, we will rain hell down on you and I'll take everything I want. 

Famous last words of a crazy chick.

Slice after slice, the fresh wounds burned but the one along his muzzle most of all. It would be inaccurate to say he was lucky his attack worked, for when it came down to facts he might not be the most talented fighter, but he was still much larger. The witch tumbled to the ground giving him the chance to grab hold of her leg if only briefly.

For a moment both were still as West watched with careful eyes. Rosina curled her paw towards her body ensuring that he had done enough to truly hurt her, enough to perhaps have the upper hand. She spat at him again, words that would cut as sharp as any fang. No one threatened his home, no one threatened his family. Normally the boy would have his own spit of threats, but uncharacteristically of him, he remained deathly silent.

His eyes narrowed as the hate consumed him, lost to something else now as his lips pulled back to show off the glint of his fangs. He rushed her again, this time searching to grab hold of her throat and slam the witch to the ground. There was no hesitation, no doubts, just mindless snapping and tearing as his fangs sought the woman's side, her shoulder, her neck. It didn't matter what part he grabbed it was all part of his blind fury now.

I'm always so hesitant to just auto land hits even with determined outcomes LOL I'm goin for it in this post but let me know if you want me to change anything!

Oh I'm the same way! I always say 'aimed' or 'attempted' cause I'm paranoid and wanna leave the floor open for dodges andbwhat not. But it looks all good!

Silence, and she would take it, for the hate that filled his eyes would let her know now he was just as much of a killer as she was. Just as much of a good wolf turned cold. 

He rushed her and though she tried to dodge out to the side, was far too slow now. He, after all, had taken away her greatest tactic- her speed. 

When he seized her by the throat it was much like a human would grab another by the throat and he quite literally 'choke slammed' her into the dirt. He tore at her, jaws grabbing the side of her neck, her shoulder, her torso, biting and shreading.  

She was left to only tooth and claw as her devices now. Her neck turned to the side so that he face was up and facing him to make it harder to attack. Her jaws opened, biting down on the closest thing to her- his face and one of his front legs. She would do her worst to bite and tear, to try and seek out his tender nose or eye, just enough to get away and out from under his grip. 

But then what?

going to leave room for her to slip away here! maybe one more round to wrap up?

The metallic taste of blood was quick to spread across his tongue, a sign of his success as a set of jaws snapped a little too close to his face for his liking. He had been almost too blinded to even register the fangs that met his flesh until he could see Rosina attacking. Shoving his paw on the woman's torso to hopefully keep her down, he'd turn to meet her fangs with his own, a heavy growl rolling from his maw.

Sounds good, last post for me and for Rosina EVER.

He pressed her into the muddy earth, held her, mauled her. If she were ever to get away from this great beast she would need to do so now - and quickly! 

She twists her head round as she lay to her side, biting for the ankle on the foot which held her down. She knew he would retaliate, strike her again and she readied for it. The moment he might bite her again, her jaws go from his ankle to his face. Just enough for him to pull away from her. Just enough for her to break free! 

And she would. And horribly bruised and even worse so bloodied, she'd use the adrenaline she had (for she had no natural strength left) to once more scurry away from the borders of Easthollow.

RIP :(

As fast as it all happened, it ended. Fangs racing for his own limb to which he retaliated just as he had before, unbeknownst to him that he was falling into her desired outcome. A change of course and a stinging burn followed as the new slash across his muzzle caused the woodland boy to step back stunned as warm blood ran from his face. By the time he had recovered, she had already scurried into the treeline of the woods disappearing from sight as a gruff huff left the boy.

It was only now he realized how sore he was and took note of the several bites and tears along his body. Nothing debilitating, but a nuisance all the same. At the very least there were healers at home, and hopefully, now the witch would learn to keep away from their borders. Maybe all of them would learn... but for now he would turn and head homebound to recover for whatever battles laid ahead.