Wild Berry Meadow no man will hurl me down to Death, against my fate

the break, the rush. she knew that, should she look behind her now, any semblance of kindness would be shattered and scattered. and while every fiber screamed to twist and face him, or two flee from his lumbering form and back to her children, she remained still. this was entirely different from when she'd caught Vaati's neck betwixt her fangs as he'd held her down; it took significant strength to avoid a reflexive recoil. 

now. she twisted in one smooth, vicious motion, pent up tension sending her fangs towards his face, his muzzle, his neck, whichever she could grasp. she was aware of his attack landing somewhere beneath her right eye, ugly fangs carving into her cheek and muzzle, and of the snarl that rips its way from her throat almost painfully. she is motivated by a strength, a purpose, she'd only recently gained, and a rage more bitter and pointed than that that had driven her to tear open her father's throat.