Honeyed Pasture mayday

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Electra had never met a wolf with such a mouth to match her own, but here she was!  Out in the wild!  With even less of a filter than Electra herself! She could feel the indignance rising inside of her, but her body and face remained eerily still.

There were two outcomes to this scenario.  She could sit here and let herself be metaphorically shat upon by some dumb broad who didn’t even know her, or ...

Walking away was not an option that came to Electra, despite it definitely being one.   She may have had more patience if not for some personal issues in her recent history. Instead she leapt into motion, headed directly towards the rusty-coated wench, darting across the dead brown field with incredible speed; no amount of speaking would get the other out of this, it was fight or run.  The young Vael’s aim: to grab the muzzle of that back-talking waste of breath and pin her stupid face to the ground.  

If she succeeded, her only aim was to drive the woman’s face into the mud — it was obvious that the girl’s intent wasn’t to kill, it was to shame.