Sun Mote Copse I've been swimming from the Wallace

"You're damn right," Niamh chuckled, satisfied with the overall outcome. From what she could tell, Fennec's ire had dissipated at least a little bit, and she felt as though she'd established herself- at least physically, if nothing else- as being superior. Of course, she had a few advantages over Fennec that tipped the odds in her favour, but she didn't care. A win was a win. But Fennec had fought, and had really fought. Had they been equally skilled and matched physically, Niamh would have had to fight for her very life. 

When her opponent rose shakily, Niamh moved toward her with the relaxed prowl of a lazy housecat, but paused when Fennec spoke. She was alarmed then, but only for a moment. "Here. I'll fix you up, you fix me up," She said, almost dismissing Fennec's rare, honest confession for a moment or two as she approached, turning her side toward the pale woman so that she could treat the wound along her ribs.

It was with a casual shrug that she finally responded, her voice quiet but thick with meaning. "You don't need to prove me wrong, Fennec," She said. "You just proved me right." After all- Niamh had never had doubts about the fire in Fennec's soul, or in her abilities or contributions to the pack. Whatever idea it was that Fennec had had about Niamh doubting her was something she hoped to conquer. "I all'us knew you were a badass." She tacked on, to make her point clear.