Bearclaw Valley They don’t get the context ‘cause it’s too complex

two of them -- toad and astara -- swept upon the redsand bull.

he was ready, whirling around with teeth bared. astara did not shirk.

no bear ever did.

she was upon him as violent as wildfire, their teeth clashing and clicking. raking, drawing blood. in her sightline a stream of red from tissue torn by the brute's teeth. her blood welling in thick drops down her cheek.

she made a bid then for the meat of his neck as they disengaged, envisioning the soft arterial pump of blood just mere milimeters underneath. meanwhile a dull pain knocked around her skull, aching every time she moved.