Qeya River jus in the wada

How odd it was to hear the warrior's words, and yet have them contradict everything Seregryn had been taught about a true warrior. She knew he would not understand her words, so at least that gleaned a bit of entertainment for her - and then he was baring his teeth, advancing upon her with a growl punctuating the moment. The girl wanted to keep playing the part of a mindless foreigner, for that was what she was deep down, but this game could only go on for so long. It was not in her nature to buckle to any pressure, and she was not about to whine and cry her way out of this situation - if anything, she was goading him in to a fight, although the repercussions would be left up to fate. Perhaps he would return to his pack, wherever it was, and talk of these moments -- but either of them had any sense, they would keep this meeting between themselves. Seregryn knew there was a kill order for anyone who passed beyond the river -- her life was forfeit as long as she was here -- but judging by this boy's lack of willpower, his passivity, she was safe for the time being.

His growling did not frighten her -- he did not frighten her in the slightest, having been raised in the warrior-culture of Seageda and Trigeda. Yet she had a role to play in this game of her's, and so she shrank back from him; her ears fell back and her tail went low, although it did not curl across her belly, and her eyes still held the defiance that was bred in to her. Laik you nou Drageda? She questioned, keeping the tone of her voice light and trembling so as to sound like a fearful child. Her tail lashed behind her once, and then Seregryn pulled her forequarters down in to a play bow, slapping the ground and mewling coyly, as an invitation to the agitated boy to come closer, to play, as if she were trying to befriend someone that she knew, intrinsically and through the laws of her land, was an enemy.

Just how far could she push this boy?