Bitterroot Valley garmr

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she sneers. she growls. she is revolted. revolted by everything that this man stands for. from his dark, handsome fur to those leering yellow eyes. the way he baits her into a circle, and the way she falls into the trap, blinded by her annoyance.
and his words... his words... they grate. they scathe. black lips curl up above her pearled teeth which she flashes at him, jaws gaping and then connecting in an audible, clicking snap.
the bite at her flank provokes her to lash out towards him, quickening her strides to try and catch his tail in her jaw and wring it angrily, fluid and swift on a huntresses gait. in man dream! ravah rebuts.
she stops, whether or not her blow landed, and straightens her posture. heavy breathing, flanks rising and falling, and a wild stare pinned on the man. chin held high. silver not bend for dung. not now. not ever. you want conquer? again, stepping for him and jutting her face into his with a shattering snarl hidden behind her bridgework. find softer bitch. plenty in great sky!
and just to add a little salt:
maybe she teach you how to finish!