Bearclaw Valley A war in my name

Her shoulder smarted in the wake of the impact. Her teeth gritted together as she watched him tumble, but quickly find his footing. Had he been an intruder, she would have been upon him, biting for his underbelly, seeking to pin him down before he could rise. As it was, she wasn't given much of an opportunity anyway- the man was back on his feet, and lunged toward her with the speed of a viper. 

She struck out, expecting for him to clash against her chest, only to snap her teeth together and send a bolt of pain through her temple as she missed him completely. He drove his shoulder toward her, so the wolverine woman crouched instinctively, an action which might have saved her from suffering a similar fate. Her paws left streaks in the light snow underfoot as she was shoved backwards. 

She snapped her teeth together twice, close to where his elbow bent against his ribs. It was against her own policy to intentionally draw blood during a spar, if it was not between good friends. The two clacks were intended as a warning; if I could, I would. 

She was forced to draw back and yield her ground; he was much larger than she was, and allowing him to get this close could be dangerous for her. She circled swiftly, intending to make him pivot. A moment longer, and she dared for him to make another move with an inviting clack of her teeth.