Qeya River there will come a ruler whose brow is laid in thorn

the sentence needed not to be spoken; Heloise knew a fighter when she saw one. bold and brazen was the approach by the other, attempting to slip by and grab her by the throat. at least her thick ruff would protect her. there was no way of knowing if this was a friendly bout or if the other merely wished to inflict harm. she would treat it as a test of her own skills and if it came down to fighting for her life... she would show no mercy. 

teeth pulled against her coat, though not very aggressively. this was merely a spar, it would seem. there was no outward malice. she felt herself twisting, jerking her head away and allowing her throat ruff to get the brunt of it. a few loose hairs were nothing to cry about. fur re-grew. potential damage to her throat? irreversible. if she happened to get away from the grip, Heloise would aim for the legs of the woman once distance had been given. her teeth were 'muted' in the sense it was not a deep bite she aimed for. 

she attempted to nip the other's front leg. constrict movement. make her back off from her bold approach.