Permafrost Hollows my fathers blade

The man is serpentine with his movements. Winding down from his perch, coiling through timber like shadow incarnate. And like a coward, he does not meet her shield with his dagger. Circling around her, leering with one eye of smoldering gold. Svalla huffs, either out of amusement or irate. 

"Why? Worried that he satisfied me in ways you never got the chance to?" If he wished to play a game with venom and words, so be it, as her bark was just as harsh as her bite. Her tail flagging, swaying high in the breeze as she takes to mimic his movements. Her steps untethered, treading on the border of careless. Reckless. It is only fitting, for it is how she feels tonight. 

With a tilt of her head, she grins. Sharp-toothed and humorless. "Winsook must have a tight chain on you. You practically headed their command like a dog." She might have sneered, if she wasn't enjoying the barbs tossed effortlessly between them. A different kind of spar than what she is used to, but one that keeps her sharp.

Those teeth glint in the moonlight, just inches away from the fur of her tail. She clicks her tongue to her teeth, sways it along with her hips just to tease. "It's a shame, how little I care about your problems. I wonder what your wife must have thought, when your masters told her of our failed tryst. Is she making you sleep outside, rogue?"