Sleeping Dragon i'm still, i'm still an animal

Sangilak had found him in little time, and she watched as his body adjusted into one befitting of the rank he held. Sangilak herself did not adjust her own, her eyes seeking to hold his own until he might look away or else relent. Her own tail lifts a little higher, though the degree is subtle. No doubt the nuanced movement would be noted by the one she sought to challenge this day. It need not end in violence, but perhaps it would to the minor degree as pack scuffles oft could when one would not otherwise relent. Sangilak did not change her approach or her demeanor, and did not care one way or the other how this ended—violent, or nonviolent—as she looked upon him, expression expectant. Her muzzle draped over her throat in a brief protective maneuver, in case he sought to physically cause her to submit to him. Which she would certainly do, if he did not adjust his own posture. The way she squared herself revealed just that, her weight centered and her eyes hard.