Broken Antler Fen not the needle, nor the thread, the lost decree

and while only the smallest amount of blood smeared her fangs, the jolt of its taste on her tongue had her secure in the knowledge that she had drawn first blood. but this victory seemed small and insignificant when she toppled backward into the snow, rear limbs kicking out on impulse. she skittered backward, managing to find her feet and remaining low, tail tucked low and ears pinned back as her fangs glistened through peeled back lips. 

her tail tip twitched in quick, sporadic motions, and her hackles bristled and fell. her breath was forced and pulled back into her lungs with an intensity that rivaled the male's own, and running through her mind was a long string of tangled words.  whowashe whywashehere whatdidhewant whatdidhe - "what do you want." somehow, the words wrenched themselves through and out of her maw, soft and desperate.