Kintla Flatlands The Judge

Teeth clatter. While they meet, bone to bone, satisfaction comes in a great rush with a shiver down her spine. She snaps where she can, paws braced, and feels the motions mirrored by the pale female. Teeth clip into her cheek, cutting away at her furs and smarting the skin just enough to remember it, but she's not bothered now -- not even when it happens again, but more towards her chin that time. Maybe, somewhere along the way as she may find a similar luck as she seeks her own purchase into the stranger's space -- and should it grant her any contact, even better.

She's still testing the waters here and volleys back defensively and offensive. Her teeth aren't aiming to rend and maim, necessarily, but she's not keeping it much more measured than that. She doesn't intend this stranger dire harm. If she wanted that to be the case, where would be the sport of it? But, she would adjust as needed. Not knowing her fellow's full intentions (beyond protecting her pack in one way or another), it would be something to keep in mind until she could understand more.

When it suited her, she increased the space between them for a beat only to round around for her side this time teeth first. In the motion, she aimed to swing the rest of herself out of immediate reach all while still aiming her momentum forward.