Bearclaw Valley A war in my name

tvar steadied himself as she pressed against his shoulder, her paws braced to keep him from overpowering her. she was quick—quicker than most he’d sparred with—and she had guts. guts of steel, if you asked him. and he'd be glad to tell anyone who asked just how not-to-be-fucked with the regina was.

and then she was gone, pushing back with her paws before leaping away with a speed he hadn't seen coming. he had been ready to fire up another blow, aim to end this. his sharp blue eyes followed her as she went, and narrowed slightly as her bark rang out, teasing and playful.

a challenge that he would meet.

without hesitation, he surged forth, large black paws sending up churns of snow as he chased after her. she was fast, darting through the meadow with ease; afterall, she knew every inch of it, but tvar wasn't giving up either. his strides were long and only grew longer and stronger and faster, muscles in chest and quarters coiling and releasing with each powerful leap.

"aye, you better run!" he called after her, provoking, eager to engage in this play-pretend of guard and intruder.

want to start wrapping this up? :3