Hideaway Strath moonlight casted upon sinner's skin

The dove finally managed to shove the woman back and off of her, Whrist leaping away with her fangs exposed in a fearsome snarl as if possessed by some daemon. Aerin staggered to her feet, stumbling back as she attempted to put space between the two of them. The silver coins of her gaze were wide and wild, her breathing ragged with exertion. They circled each other, each sizing the other up, but only for a moment. She'd held her own (especially for one so unprepared), but it was not over yet.

When the unhinged shadow sprang back into the fight, seemingly not satisfied with the crimson rivulets painting Aerin's throat nor with the way the halfling awkwardly carried herself on limping paces, she slammed into the medic's body again with brutality. The irisvar managed to stay standing but only barely -- her hindquarters being crushed into the dirt by the wolf's larger frame -- twisting at an angle that caused her joints to creak and scream with protest. 

"What ze fuck is wrong vith ye?!" the gypsy snarled, the vicious tone laced with frustration as the dark woman snatched her up by the nape and they were locked in battle once more. She felt a second wind of panic, her skin crawling at having someone touch the back of her neck in such a manner -- triggering a flood of memories from her time locked in the caves with her ex-mate. Now it was the wolfdog who was possessed, twisting even tighter in the obsidian wraith's grasp -- a roar tearing from the pale column of her throat, jaws aimed for the bridge of Whrist's muzzle.