Blackfeather Woods we are animal hungry down to our delicate bones

wintersbane watches astara for any sign of how and when she might make her move, noting that she is contemplating. heavily, perhaps. or perhaps it is not as heavy as he thinks her thinking may be ...nevertheless there is a distant gleam to her eye. with his invitation open for her to accept or decline as her leisure she lunges at him like a shadow-draped banshee with teeth bared. the shadow girl is swift but wintersbane thinks ( assumes, rather ) he could've moved out of the way in time to avoid her. instead, he feigns a dodge and lets out a small hiss of a pain as her teeth find the flesh of his cheek, sharpened canines splicing the skin to draw a small bit of blood. "good, good." wintersbane encourages and snaps his teeth at her in retaliation for her attack, careful to avoid actually biting her, curious to see what she will do. eventually, her opponents would fight back. she is a ( growing ) child and wintersbane hinders on that edge of trepidation, afraid he might accidentally hurt her. thus, he favors the feigning of attacks and ferocity so that she might get a small taste of what an actual spar might be.