Duskfire Glacier stolen breath

keshka let him circle her, her breath even, her body still save for the slow flick of her tail. she did not move to meet his challenge immediately, nor did she bite back at his taunts. instead, she let his words hang in the cold air between them, let him prowl, let him think he had the upper hand.
scared? her lips curled, her voice smooth, laced with something teasing. you might be surprised, soldat.
her muscles tensed—not in hesitation, but in preparation. the weight of his gaze, the smoldering challenge behind it, meant nothing if he could not back it up.
real opponents don't announce themselves.
then she moved.
quick as a shadow, she surged forward, testing the tension between them, snapping close—not quite striking, but close enough for him to feel the whisper of her breath.