Qeya River well, I know what you want from me

d: 16, a: 1 LOL

A name for his claim, the scents he reeked of. The northwoman laughs a low, rumbling sound as she stops to face him.

"Saatsine has loyal dog," words hold an edge of admiration. Loyalty is power, and she would test him to the limits of it. 

He surges forward but she is ready, deflecting the brunt of his blow with a shield shoulder. It staggers her, the sheer force of him skidding her paws along grit ice as she twists her neck to avoid his blades. Not enough.

Sharp pain pulls a guttural roar as she spins lengths away, blood arcing from a split on her cheek. "You make me bleed, happy now?" She waits as a panther might, pacing, challenging, to see if he is to strike again or honour his code.