Lake Rodney In the hall of the mountain king

She could cling to the forest with all her might, her life as well. Yet Peregrine would not stop until she was gone, whether that meant she ran off somewhere else or he killed her on the spot. Slaying her would give him the most satisfaction after all his effort, yet he would be just as satisfied with the former possibility as well. As long as she and her ilk stopped horning in on his neck of the woods (so to speak), Peregrine wouldn't care what she did beyond that.

But until that happened, he would tirelessly aim to end her life and tear apart her claim even as he further established his own. Peregrine found himself wondering why she insisted on sticking around rather than turning tail and fleeing. But then he remembered that she was proud and stubborn to a fault. It made no sense to him but it also made no difference. As long as she hung near his turf, Peregrine would be relentless.

But maybe more words would drive his point home where his actions, no matter how loud and clear, seemed to have no effect on her. "Leave or die," he hissed, assured that there were only two possible outcomes: she would flee or perish at his teeth and claws. It never once occurred to him that she could win the fight.