Deepwood Weald It’s the same way you showed me

The larger male is able to surprise her enough to get the upper hand. And he’s eagerly shaking at her flesh. It’s like he’s lost his wits. He’s not completely there really. Truth be told, rage electrifies every nerve ending, every muscle, and shock waves of electric hate pulsate through his brain so badly that it seems it’s enough to convince him to actually attack her this time. It was her turn to figure out that Kynareth doesn’t bluff.

If he had an option he would’ve snatched up her cute little friend and shook her to death just like he did Aya as well. He was  a bigger man then, he let them get away. A smart decision for him then, for a battle with the two would mean war with Neverwinter and he’s too busy trying to convince Moonspear to assist him in taking down Ursus.

So as he feels biting on his leg he growls and hops away. He’d give her a fair fight if he was to fight her. The puncture wounds on his leg already begin to bleed and throb. Yet he goes on the defensive, strong body, daring her to come at him. He stands tall and dominant, while also ready for her attack. Taking up a much more defensive position he stay close enough that he’d be able to catch her if she ran. 

He tilts a furry chin up to her, a manic sneer on his face and the pupils of his irises swallows by a hawkish, predatory yellow. He doesn’t look like himself. “Come on, baby.” He taunts, flaunting the nickname purposely. “I wanna feel those teeth on me like you fucking mean it.” He hums lowly, his voice gravelly with rage as his lip wrinkles up.