Rising Sun Valley sometimes, quiet is violent

Embry rolled backwards, struggling to absorb the impact. His claws slid precariously as he moved, muscles tensing at the sudden addition to gravity. When he felt her teeth meet his flesh, he made a wild dance to the side, large paws taking flight with as much agility as possible for the brute. He couldn't manage much more than to retreat before he felt the blood, scarlet and inky in the sullen light, trickling down his shoulder. Curses. 

     Adrenaline pushed him onward, so that even as he moved the pain was just a supporting element. This had become a slow, undulating game of wit and bravado, and he had yet to let it harness him. Rage fumed from his gaze, lips parted in a deepened snarl, as he lunged forward yet again to meet the fae before him. He shifted the weight from his hind legs to provide a more accurate position as he closed in, forepaws primed for the tackle.

     He landed as square as possible on her side, barrelling once again with just as much brio as before. She was a tricky little pest beneath him, but he figured the best way to pin a fly was simply to tack its wings. That's exactly what he intended to do. His momentum was aimed directly for her lungs and forelegs, where perhaps a broken bone or two could occur. This was hardly any time for mercy, despite the recent cold snap that had rendered him to this instability.