Panther Park [m] The only time I'd ever call you mine

He had a strange way of speaking in certain moments, Reverie had noticed; more like his kin whose voices she'd rarely heard directed at herself, that roughhewn seaside accent unlike anything she'd heard before. Always it enchanted her — but it was such a rare, fleeting thing to hear. For a moment she blinked, caught off guard by his request, by him.

Hit me, he said, as if it was that simple. Maybe it was. Reverie lunged for him in the direct manner which would have been laughable as a true strategy for a wolf like her, unseasoned and disadvantaged in size. A feint — but her next move was unplanned, hinged entirely on the warrior's split-second response.

Step one: throw him off.

Step two: ???

Step three: profit.

Or something like that.