Fairspell Meadow they once belonged to me

Her fangs met their intended target, blood hot and metallic on her tongue, the scrape of bone jarring. The boy did not falter beneath her quick onslaught, instead twisting and striking out at her. Shock turned to rage; the audacity of this stranger to attack her at random. Fangs met her chest, dull pain echoing through her, though the feeling was ignored and her own attack increased. Ears lay flat against her skull and her muzzle darted low, seeking to grasp a forelimb and deliver as much damage as possible. To go straight for the throat, she felt, was too obvious, and should she injure a crucial limb the fight may sway in her favour.