Ocean's Breath Plateau seized from the depths

Bethlehem stood back — puffed out, chin tucked, gaze rivaling Medusa's — and she reveled too long in the satisfaction she felt from ruffling him. So when her cavalier opponent recovered and retaliated, she was ironically unprepared. Typically, as her experiences went, the ones she lashed out at either took immediate offense or reacted with fear; but what he returned to her wasn't either common outcome, and she was jarred by the shift in expectation and reality. Because what she had considered to be an unbeatable serve had suddenly turned into the ball being rocketed back to her side of the court with a swift and masterful backhand.

She was slow to recover, but the motion was graceful and powerful. Her long body tensed and then expanded like rubber. She bowed before him, tipping her muzzle up to present the forester with a shark's gleaming grin. She rumbled with a growl; low trills of pleasure trembling at her throat with equal volume to the sound of her threats. It was clear from this pose, this momentary pause, that the two of them were acknowledging the game afoot and agreeing to its terms. They both knew that this wasn't a fight — it was a dance. And Bethlehem would not entertain a bad dancer.

Her tail, high and waving, went stiff abruptly — and the she-wolf tensed in preparation to launch herself at the spirited vandal.

If need be, feel free to PP this "tussle" as you'd like :)