Lion Head Mesa do not assess a man who has nothing, and thus falsify your pen

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Ah, there it is. The ferocity. The desire for the power that she refuses to bestow upon her opponents. A true challenge, and a worthy adversary. 

He misses, but he enjoys it nonetheless. She is a woman who knows how to move, perhaps in more ways than one. As a mere man, how can he not have a glimpse of the thought? It goes away quickly, however. There are more enticing things to this moment.

Greedy teeth lunge for his neck, legs forceful with motion against his backside. She thinks she has the higher ground, but he has the lower to use to his advantage.

Twisting his body quickly, he lets his back fall with a thud against the sands below. Normally, such a movement should have caused a momentary lapse of lost breath, but he is used to this brutality against his body. The moment he touches the earth, his legs flail outward, thrashing toward his opponent above. As an added measure of his persistence, his jaws snap blindly. Whether they act as a weapon or distraction, he cares not, for his claws and the force of his legs will surely do the rest.