Bearclaw Valley Where’s the fire? What’s the hurry about?

Grackle’s teeth snapped shut, barely grazing the man’s hide—frustratingly close but not enough to be worthwhile. The second she realized it, however, the world spun on her. Her ear tore away from her skull with a sickening rip, the burn of it lighting up her nerves like a firecracker and reinforcing what she already knew: it would be a mess when she checked later.

The calico man sent her stumbling back. Claws scraped her flank, ripping dark fur and skin in jagged streaks. There was no time to wince, no time to react—just pain and the ground rushing up to meet her. Fast. She would need to be quick to avoid leaving her stomach exposed.

Grackle twisted mid-fall, body contorting like a snake as she hit the ground with a thud that knocked the air from her lungs—no time for breath. Move! Her mind tempted to go for the throat, to strike back with everything she had, but Grackle wasn’t truly here for blood.

She wasn’t looking to maim either, despite the thrill that enticed her to escalate— no, the bit of conversation they had exchanged ensured that, at least on her end. The dark woman was only trading blows in the first bit of excitement she had experienced in weeks, and she would not be the one to up the ante— not this time when she knew that she had certainly been the one to stick her whole ass leg foot in her mouth.

Instead of scrambling back like prey, she shot forward, aiming low—right between the woman’s legs. Grackle would attempt to slither through, and spring to her paws instantly.

If her gambit worked, she'd send the woman teetering, unbalanced for just a heartbeat, and bolt forward to vault over the valley's lowering wall and back into unclaimed territory.