Moonspear I've become a simple souvenir of someone's kill

The situation was shifting, or progressing, rather. A little back and forth tended to do that. She trusted in her quickness, usually, and it made her nimble too in the best of instances. But it lacked brute strength. She tried to infuse it with fury, intent, when it needed it--and when she had to close that gap. Not that this was that, but she was ever-aware of how she had been before, and how she knew it could be.. if it went just right, maybe.

He came after her, limbs and teeth both. Mid-snap of her own, she tried to rein it in. Shift course, defensive if only for a heartbeat.. but he was a lot of force, and she didn't make it fast enough for anything ideal. Trying to dodge some of his force, she tried to get low, his jaws contacting further to the height of her shoulder-blade than below while she fumbled for better footing after being knocked around a bit, only to lose most of what she had in among his force. She accepted a little dirt, probably stirred a little of it up herself as she tried to scramble back together and not let him shove her over entirely.

From her lower vantage point, this time, she tried to aim for the bottom of his chest with her snaps as she arced back towards him once more. But in all of her rush and stay on her feet, it seemed... more aimed at his armpits, honestly--though any last second suggestions from him were sure to change this, even in mere instant, but she intended to keep this momentum going, good or bad.