Redsand Canyon down and out over the mount

roll

Teeth made contact with one leg, not enough to draw blood but no less firm. Colin squirmed in her grip; snapping pain shot down from her shoulder, drawing blood. A fresh addition to their game.

Her own teeth clamped down, returning the gesture. She jerked her head back, hoping to throw him off-balance in a yanking tug-of-war—but her grip loosened in the gesture and Finley’s teeth closed once more around open air, and Colin was free. Momentarily bewildered, catching her breath, she stayed back and watched him with a hunter’s focus. Their spar was, in her eyes, far from over.