Firefly Glen keep me hanging on

When she charges in a half circle, he barely has the energy to get out of the way. He moves, just enough to avoid anything serious but the prick of her teeth on his rump causes a streak of something warm and wet. She’d taken another successful bite but pulling away prevented any real harm. He snaps his head around to grabs something—anything—but once more clicks teeth upon teeth when he misses. The skill in the youngster gives him surprise, sure that he would have come out on top, but he’s far more fatigued than he’d let on, even to himself. This time, instead of standing still, he moves his feet away from her, hovering off to the side.