Grouse Thicket Schmoyoho, accent on the yo.

She wouldn't have sunk her teeth in had she landed her hit, though the hypothetical didn't matter much when she missed. Towhee spat out the tuft of fur that stuck to her tongue even as she whirled to field his bid to bite her shoulder. For a split second, she was tempted to let him. "I want you to do that again. Bite me." But that would come later. Right now, she opted to open her own jaws so that they clashed, just like two rutting stags locking antlers.

It hurt, the impact rattling all her teeth down to their roots and the points of his fangs piercing her gums and lips in several places. With a savage snarl, she leaped backward, disengaging, but only for a moment. She sprang right back in again. Towhee feinted toward his right forepaw, though at the last second, she intended to surge upward and go right back in for his throat again.