Five-finger discount

Maera had never been in a fight, she didn't know violence.
The wounds she had were not issued by claws or fangs but by the emptyness of words and broken promises; but even if the pain she had suffered had not been physical she doubted it would be much worse than the emotional one. With the fur on the nape on her neck standing on end and her chest puffing in an attempt to make her look larger she watched the devilish feline stand to face her, spitting words that as calm as they were felt like ice cold to the touch.

I don't care if you're done she growled, the bridge of her muzzle wrinkling to deform her beautiful features into an enraged grimace. Just like her species had not cared to tear a family apart, the young Sveijarn did not literally give a fuck damn about interupting the cat's meal.

With the image of her beloved brother suddenly fresh in her mind and her knees beginning to wobble from the mixture of rage, fear and sadness swirling in her brain she decided to cave to the enraged desires on vengance in her heart.
Even if the chance of this cat being the same one were nearly unexistent, she could not help but feel blind hatred for the whole species.

As the lynx leaned to get another bite of it's stolen meal, Maera lunged.
Guided by the rage broiling in her insides and by the instinct to protect what was hers she launched herself closer, her pristine set of fangs making an appereance as she snapped her jaw in the air with an audible, click.
A last, merciful warning for the cat.