Deepwood Weald Not An Option

she didn't immediately charge him, but he knew he was being sized up. she was probably looking him over the way someone looked over choice cuts at a butcher, trying to decide if they were in the mood to make ribs or maybe a rump roast. either way, lakhos would have been super disappointing. it was probably good she didn't have thumbs because with the grin that he saw crossing her features, she probably would have skinned him alive to wear him like a coat.
wait. that wouldn't have worked either.
his mouth opened to ask something, but the click of her jaws was a pretty clear shut up marker if he ever saw one. only it went on, each snap giving him a reason to take a step back like he was some pro boxer about to go toe-to-toe in the ring, except lakhos wasn't really much of a fighter. a scrapper maybe, but he had probably lost more spats that he had started, and he had probably not finished a few more.
what the hell is your deal??
that, however, made it out of his mouth as she lunged for him again.this time, he couldn't get in a sidestep or a few steps back to avoid her. her teeth hit the mark and he was certain that the rough pinch she gave him did in fact break the skin through his thick, doublecoated hide.
a snarl broke through his confusion in retaliation; he knew he couldn't overpower her but he could bite her back, and so he did. he had no problem reaching out for her and trying to get a mouthful of skin and fur between his pointed teeth, hoping that perhaps that needlepoint snout of his would grab enough to entice her to let him go.
but truth be told, he had a feeling this wouldn't go his way either.
guess they'd just have to weirdly hold onto each other instead.