Cricket Creek Bog raises a number to a power of a specified number.

He emerged from the stream bringing with him a thick, dark pelt full of water which he promptly flung in all directions with a rapid, violent shake. Niamh, offended by the gesture, reeled backwards and hissed softly as she backpedaled to get out of the spray but wasn't quick enough to do so. She grimaced almost unwillingly against the sheer cheek of splashing someone this time of year- but failed to see that this was a part of his tactics- and that he'd intended to use that as a distraction. It worked- and she'd been angled away from him slightly when he suddenly dove toward her while her eyes were squinted. She hadn't even had time to shout a string of obscenities at him before his chest smacked against hers, and she felt his teeth sink through the beige fur of her shoulder, high up on her shoulderblade. 

She snarled, but was secretly pleased, and knew that with the skin and fur being so loose there, he'd managed to get a good mouthful that would keep her from getting away from him. So she would have to put their proximity to good use, as she couldn't wrench herself from his grip unless he let her free- which was her next aim. While being held by the thick fur at her shoulder wasn't terribly painful, it was very limiting- so she decided to resort to inflicting pain in order to get him to release. She didn't have a great range of motion, due to being scruffed, but she pushed toward him and snapped her jaws at his nearest foreleg, hoping to repay his stronghold with a bout of keen pain.