Bearclaw Valley A war in my name

She had to stifle a cackle so that she could concentrate fully on the match. If Tvar intended to prove that he was both quick on his weight and able to sling his weight around, he'd achieved it in only a few moves. If that was all that Ameline wanted to see, then she could have cut the spar short just then and spared them both the effort. She wanted to see more, though; she wanted to push him, assess him for any weaknesses both physical and temperamental. That, and sparring was enjoyable when she was challenged. 

He did not yield his placement, and stepped forward instead to cut into her turf, earning a faint, wry grin from the Regina. She caught sight of off-white teeth and ducked, feeling hot breath stir the golden fur at the back of her neck, flicking an ear to catch the snapping of teeth; a declaration of a move he might have made, had they not been pulling their punches. 

She began to ponder if she should throw caution to the wind and change the game- but she wasn't willing to take such a risk with a stranger. Not when there was still an air of mystery about his past. 

She had intended to lure him in one direction and then change leads, shifting her weight to the other side when he careened suddenly before her. Her maneuver might have put some space between them if she had followed through, but the surprise he gave her caught her attention, and she hesitated just a moment too long. In his firm grasp he caught her forelimb, which she then jerked toward her opened jaws as if reeling in a bait line. 

He could bluff all he wanted, with her leg in his mouth; she aimed for a potentially more costly grip at the base of his skull.