Mount Everfall the black parade

Aitana hit the ground hard, the air forced from her lungs as Qvasir’s weight pinned her beneath him. Her amber eyes widened for a heartbeat, surprise flashing across her face before it hardened into a glare. Her lips curled back in a snarl; yet she stayed still—partly out of necessity, partly because she wasn’t stupid enough to do anything else. She saw what it looked like to end up on the wrong end of one of these man tantrums.

The glob of spit that landed beside her head made her eyes narrow further, however, an insult; harsher than any physical pain. The weight of his breath against her ear, the guttural force of his growl—it all sparked a revolting disgust and anger in her, and yet she forced herself to choke down the immediate urge to snap back. When Qvasir finally stepped back, Aitana was down for only a fraction of a second before springing to her paws. Her tail lashed behind her, her chest heaving with the effort to steady her breathing. She turned on him, teeth gnashing in a violent snarl.

“I don’t care how big you think you are,” she spit at his face, “Touch me again and I’ll make sure you regret it.” Her tail lashed once more before she took a step back, putting space between them. Then, she whipped around, shoving her back to him, daring him to try it again. One long leg after the other, she strode off, akin to a prized pony, her head high, chin lilted to the sky.

"Skra. Pendejo."

Tsk. He had successfully earned Aitana's ire.