Firefly Glen in my veins like fire

the force of her hit thunders through him. breath leaves his chest sharp, and he stumbles a step back, digging in with a grunt. not from pain—from surprise.
she’s strong. not reckless. not wild.
he steadies, eyes flicking across her form—measured, calculating. she fights not like an animal, but like one who knows. it earns something rare from him: a low, rough hum. approval.
he wipes a streak of spit from his snout with the back of his paw. then he lowers his stance, tail swaying, and charges again—this time aiming low, broad shoulder pressing forward like a shield.