Golden Glade Hit me with your best shot

The two were back at it again, face-to-face, one supine to the other, neither caring how they'd gotten there. He'd never experienced a battle so intense as this, and it was hard not to notice how much he rather enjoyed it. He could feel himself growing desirous - something he feared more than any mortal wound could possibly inflict. The fur was becoming less and less of a priority, what with such nicer means of comfort lying directly beneath him.  He cocked his ears, jaw working as he stood there, blood dripping along muscular shoulders. He hoped beyond hope he'd get scars from this battle. It would be good to remember something pleasant when he grew old.

     "It's up to you," he breathed, struggling to contain the growing desire to stop. He no longer wanted to watch this beautiful, terrorizing girl cry. Yet, by some unknown magnetism, he charged onwards. His bulk loomed over hers', impressive save for the minute cuts along its exterior. He was overwhelmed with the adrenaline of battle, and his instincts were wildly coaxing him towards something he surely could not accept, and he just stood there for a moment; blank. Her feeble effort to roll away only made him further inclined to those urgings, and finally he had to distract himself.

     "We aren't fighting for our lives, now, are we?" He feigned surprise, a sheepish grin playing at his lips. "I thought this was a matter of stealing hearts." He attempted to jam his claws into her shoulders - maybe repay the favor - but that cute smile drifted into vision and he reverted to a clumsy, half-hearted leap for the caribou. Must - Get - Furs.