there was one shadow, now there are two

Tonravik was not still as he came to meet her. The tension in her own hinds was released as she felt the coiled muscles spring. A low snarl threatened to come forth, but the woman of the wild was silent in her attack; her eyes were cold, but they burned as dry ice would. Tonravik did not seek anything in particular, only to catch him roughly between her fangs so that he would think twice of his attempts to dominate. For surely someone's time would come when her season was upon her, but until that point the woman would wield her choice and her own irrefutable dominance openly. 

Oddly, she, too, did not seek to harm; he was Tartok, she knew, and so she sought to cow him with her weight and her fangs which she undoubtedly would use were he not to stand down. In the meantime, she sought to thrust her shoulder into his chest as she turned broadside in her run, jowls neck turning and jaws agape to protect and to snap at him should he think of retaliating to give him a truly painful blow. Tonravik only attempted to wind the man she had been so fond of in their time together; she knew his true name, but she had many of her own for the poltergeist who sought to throw his own weight at her.

This time, her aim had been true. He saw the severity of his action toward her and darted off into the wood. Tonravik snarled after him but let him go, for the time. Perhaps he would be back to court her, or perhaps not. In the meantime, Tonravik shook out her ruff and looked around her, adrenaline thrumming through her veins.