Serpent Lake my spirit rises off the plate

So he was not a coward, after all. Her fangs pierced skin, and then the scent and taste of blood. But it was brief, for he was quick to wiggle out of her grasp. His fangs then searched for her own face, though she wrenched it away they still caught the side of her neck. It stung, and she could smell a hint of blood, her blood. She returned his attack without hesitation, lunging for the side of his neck, his shoulder. Her fangs were parted in a soundless growl, prepared for the attack. As before, she place the full of her body weight behind this attack, if she did not get her grip she would seek to try and bowl him over.