Deepwood Weald Not An Option

Breaking through the brush, her eyes landed on the man. The first thing that catches her eye she thought, the first thing was him. The girl's attention was fully on him, lowering her head to gaze at him with a fierce glare from under golden brows. A low rumble was the only vocal part of her silent challenge, the only warning of what she was about to do. 

Regardless of how he felt, the girl made her move. Approaching softly at first with a timed gait, as soon as she was close enough - she was off. Lunging at him with teeth glistening in the sunlight poisoned to strike at his neck or shoulder. With the snow her footing would be strange... she could already tell as her feet slid on the cold, snow slick ground, but he should fight with the same disadvantage she supposed.