Bearclaw Valley open up your skull, i'll be there

above all else, athalia was, by most definitions, a wild animal. and she certainly felt like one now, using all the force in her lithe body to hold down this — wretched thing who had literally crawled from the woodworks, tearing haplessly at cinnamon-hued wrinkles and hunks of nothing but skin. it felt as if she couldn't even make a dent in this fucking thing.
which very well could have also been because of the relative lack of control she held over herself. a marionette held up by unknown strings, driven only by the wolven instinct to protect what was hers; her thrashing is immature but fiery, and soon enough she has the creature on its back.
ancelin and annorak were soon to arrive at her shrill warning call, and as they made their leap, athalia made room for the rejoinder. tail tucked between her thighs and teeth flashed in a wild scarlet snarl, she retreats in order to circle 'round the interloper, huffing and grumbling with hideous sounds that ricochet off of the evergreen.