Moonspear look what you've done

Consumed in her grapple and consequentially lost in him, she did not realize how very close the edge had come until he felt his weight shift just enough, again; his hindpaws hardly had solid ground, meaning she was not far from the edge either. Just behind him, practically underneath, the mountain gave its way to the air and she caught her heart racing, her blood slicking her hackles and mouth hung just slack enough to taste it all through her measured breaths.

And if there was any saving grace, it was that she could resonate better with this type of chaos--the kinds that got the blood rolling and the body moving, not the bickering and the constant misunderstandings circling back and forth, down into a tight spiral of despair that never seemed to solve anything. The hanging threat of danger, the lifetime at stake.. she was sharply aware, clear--concise. Yet this didn't mean it was right. For her, for either of them, but it felt like what she must do, even as she stared his guilt and hurt in the face. She wished that it moved her greater. She waited for it to, it didn't, and only felt her nose crinkle back into an ugly snarl at his plea.

She refused to let him run rampant on her, and by extension, here. He either stood balanced with her, or not at all in her life, and if he must have the otherwise.. then that was his choice. She had made herself remarkably clear. Her, the Spear itself, and the family of his it would still hold until she stopped drawing her air.. it was her peace's sanctity, them all, or the unborn, the unwarranted, and he refused to straighten up and see it. The fact that he fought back at this at all twisted the knife for her. He could have just sent them off into the wilderness, and forgot it--like the last time, she thought bitterly. Then, maybe their disillusion could return to their shade of tranquility, she could turn a blind eye if they weren't beneath her nose on her home where her clan rested their heads, and then... maybe it could have been.

But you are too late, she murmured, somber, and almost sounding tired--would he even listen, let alone understand? She usually felt like she wasted her breath on him lately, so most likely not. He had refused to wait for her, listen to her, and now, she would return the favor. The damage was done, her chest torn asunder by this broken heart and his constant continuation nothing but the last irritations to finally drive her quite literally to the precipice on which they stood. Could it get worse? She would have to find out as she snapped her teeth viciously towards his forelegs in a feint--to first maybe unsettle his balance, but secondarily, and with more fury put behind the drive, she planted her hind feet and went teeth-first for his face, chest, or neck again.