Firefly Glen made it out alive, but I think I lost it

Gjalla’s ears swiveled, interest piqued. "A spar." she echoed, rolling the word on her tongue as if testing its weight. Her gaze flicked to the elk haunch, a tempting reward for so simple a task. She wasn’t someone unfamiliar with a fight, and Gjalla’s blood stirred at the thought of a challenge—even a measured one.

But her stomach growled, and her body yearned for sustenance more than carnage. She shrugged as she stepped forward, the faintest smirk tugging at her lips. "Very well," she conceded. "On you're mark." Her paws dug into the earth, her muscles coiling like a spring. The hunger in her belly was momentarily forgotten, replaced by the sharp edge of anticipation.