Wild Berry Meadow You givin’ up your faith for some fun

"Call me Banshee, or don't call me at all," Even in the face of a wolf much bigger and stronger than she, Banshee doesn't flinch.  There's a fire in her eyes that spreads down to her toes.  She's reckless and volatile with one of her greatest vices being the thrill of conflict.  When Donovan manages to get a good nip on her flank, she takes it in stride.  There's pain, sure, but he's toying with her.  Maybe she can provoke him into a real fight.

Deciding she is finished with puppy play-fighting, she weaves around, wily as a fox.  She'll never be able to outmatch him, but she can at least try to leave her mark.  Banshee goes for his face, not aiming for an eye to blind or anything fatal but to snap and pull to flay something, anything -- be it on his cheek or muzzle.  She's looking to actually spill blood this time.  With a Chesire's grin accompanying her assault, she snickers, "Oops." Though it's abundantly clear the abruptly vicious nature of the attack is fully intentional.