Falls of the Hinterlands well i tripped, i fell down

The brute seemed momentarily startled, at a loss for words. Wren chose to focus on the okay part of that. Consent, or rather agreement, was giving to wrestle. She needed it after the long trek and the waiting on borders and figuring shit out about her life. How much had she wasted so far? How much was essential to her wellbeing? If this was any other guy, he probably would have barreled her over by now and established dominance.

He was playing.

A great shake was given, but she clung onto his front. Digging her jaws into the thick ruff of his neck at the side, she clamped down. While he fretted about biting her inwardly, she fretted about getting a hold of him. Wren wasn't savaging biting into him. Her hold was firm but gentle. She didn't draw blood, and she knew she'd be coughing up white fur in the morning.

Not a cat, she couldn't rack her claws down his front. Not a feline, she didn't have to swipe at him. She hung on, growling and trying to figure out how to pin him. The guy was huge and wasn't a light weight at all.