Ravensblood Forest and iron filling her lungs

the feel of the woman's teeth at her throat does not draw fear from the wanheda. only a fierce fire that would consume her and everything in this forest as it built like the pressure in a volcano. she was draconian and she would not die here. she was the commander of death. though her attempts to wrestle free were in vain, the low throb of pain in her shoulder, in her throat brought her into focus. think. think. she kicks out at the woman with her front paws, lacking the power in her hind legs but hit all the same until the woman is forced to release her and praimfaya recoils, eager to put distance between them though suspects the woman would be quick to fill the gap.