Sleeping Dragon as the bone-wrench

I just want to put out here that Gyda's actions/thoughts are purely her own and have no bearing how I feel OOCly. c: Feel free to pp if Gyda makes contact with him or not.

Would Gyda not have been right there when the lone male had traipsed right across the borders of Sleeping Dragon the digression might not have been known until it was too late to do much of anything about it. However, while Gyda was not right on top of that stretch of borders she had been in sight of it and had witnessed the trespass. It was unfortunate but it could not be taken back. Though he was quick to correct himself the territorial shield-maiden was already seeing red — as if she consumed the berserker mushrooms her male counterparts ate before battle. The snarl wrenched itself from her lips, resounding deep in her throat, a guttural noise that gave vocalization to her unbidden anger. His correction did nothing to soothe her, did not please her. Their borders were strong, quite freshly marked and the fact that he had ignored them made him either foolish or useless.

Her hackles bristled as her tail rose over her back, ears slicking back to her skull before she rushed at him, unable to believe the audacity he had to stand there and stare at her after he had committed a crime that she had no forgiveness for.  Ragnar had not taught his daughter to take trespassing lightly. It was a crime punishable by death or indentured servitude — the latter of which had been her father's favorite. 

She neared him, unafraid and furious with the intent to put him in his place and if he did not move or run away she intended to lunge herself at him, jaws parted.