Wild Berry Meadow or in our eyes, every time they meet

osiris was learning.

maybe, astara was doing him a favor being so cruel, no?

as she flew by, he nimbly stepped aside. her attack fell on nothing but cold winter air.

when she turned around he was advancing, a dark coppery stormcloud on quick wings.

astara's muscles coiled and she pushed off with her hind legs in a rough pirouette-like leap to the side. not enough to entirely evade osiris' onslaught, but enough to avoid the brunt of it. his teeth grabbed a bunching of loose skin along her neck and shoulder, stretching taut the skin and raking fur from flesh like a butcher's knife.

astara jerked away, feeling the sting of her shoulder yell in protest. her tail waved boldly over her haunches as she placed distance between them once more.

she did not advance, but instead began to trot in a wide circle around the glen-wolf. he'd proven that he was no longer naive and harmless. thus far most of their attacks had been but brief glances -- she imagined if he had a chance to truly sink his teeth into her, she'd be turned into meat ribbons in seconds.

one last attack, then -- astara dove for the bridge of his muzzle, just close enough her teeth would rake but not hold -- and not so close that he could pin her down. if she managed to be successful she'd once more spring back, this time adopting a leggy trot circle that gradually got wider and wider the longer she went.