Overture Downs your mother's throat clicks and my spirit swims right to the hook

that which could be accomplished with the efficiency of turning tail could just as well be accomplished with defiance.

and once set in motion it was nigh worthless to try and alter the course of a teenage girl’s willfulness. 

she stood thusly pat; for seated in the rightful place of an abundance of caution was arrogance. upon the boy’s advance toward her the romp battened down her brow, eyes cutting with wariness between the profaned bird this blackguard clutched and the arch look in his eyes. 

blooming carmine against her pale countenance was the abrupt consciousness of a schoolgirls pulse presently quickened by the smolder of this boy’s aggro attention. 

the stirring within she didn’t altogether understand, nor did she enjoy its pluck at her senses. it was shot through with the impulse to rub his smug face in the dirt, for where did he find the audacity to go spinning such fresh sensations from the thrum of her blood?

afluster, phaedra stumbled another step backwards and then took heart — marshaling a steadying breath to her lungs. 

she squared up against her would-be violator-of-personal-space (despite his dwarfing her), but in the breadth of time between inhale and exhale, the bärenprinz furled the distance between them to, sure be it, make short shrift of phaedra’s dignity. 

not that she didn’t resist him mightily! squirming out of his grasp, lips sewn against his manhandling and attempts to force her to eat crow, phaedra shoved back against him with the check of one shoulder, hopefully jabbing him in the neck or breast while she grunted, sputtering what feathers made it through her taut-lipped fortress.
 “ugh! get off, you stupid cow!”