Fox's Glade [m] Two Birds, no Stone

Bearish, he became. Hurdling to hurt her, to maim her, whatever he then deemed was enough blood splattered over his tongue, she moved. His shoulder was crushed with pain that rendered him that much more alive, dead, and in a heated, reckless wrath, he spun to rip into her back. Dark spine met with snapping teeth, she would have to tear at her own flesh to get him off.

Whatever went through his mind was empty, vicious, and despite his efforts to keep her still, she continued to barrel into his shoulder. Ripped away from him, and how dare she move from him. How dare she to speak to him now, when he could hear nothing of it. If he did hear anything of it, now as he had sprinted towards her in a rush, it would've been as he tumbled to the ground after jumping high enough to get a vantage point. Enough that, if he wanted to fall down on her neck, he would. He did.

She met him head on, and he fell rough. Even quicker, he was up, launching for her chest, her chin, and if he needed to grab her face by the ends of his teeth, he would. Blood upon his head, because she continued to hit it, and he bit through it again. Careless, charging again, again, and more. Nasty snarls from his beaten throat, and soon lunges were not enough for Bonnie.

As if being hit and torn into by claw was not enough, he desired to be closer, meeting up with her flank and taking her to the ground. He had been here before, as if he had practiced it once, and he would again. Ripping, tearing away at fur, and getting angrier, angrier, angrier, waiting for her to fight against her leg while he snapped pointedly at her side. Little did he try to evade her teeth, her own retaliation, her own nails. Fixated, focused only on attacking. Attacking. Bleed. Bleed. Bleed.