Hideaway Strath gypsy girl, where have you been

Rather than finding purchase on the shieldmaiden's pale flank, the Seelie's muzzle bumps throbbingly against the Overseer's shoulder as Nyra whirls suddenly in the Specialist's direction. Aerin's tapering snout slides harmlessly off and aside of the woman, her blow deflected as the vast Phoenix barrels into her. It seems Whrist must tire or perhaps she purposely slackens her offense as the midwife's partner, Aerin thinks as dark shadows dance on her peripherals -- the still form of the shadeling who darts forward once or twice to nip at Nyra's heels in lackluster attack. As if her little sparrow peckings might drive away the Amazonian apex predator that's laid her out in the dirt, not unlike the ursine charge of a frostbitten nanuk in pursuit of a wounded fox. 

The moonlit vixen crumples easily beneath the unexpected rebuttal, rage igniting her veins as her spine meets the earth and the trees sway alarmingly -- her spindly, coltish limbs surging up to push into the leader's underbelly and chest as she barely manages to hold her opponent at bay. She wasn't sure she could trust Whrist, or trust herself to rely on the unstable corvid, and so, she settled for helping herself. With a high keen of a snarl, her long muzzle snapped towards Nyra's golden orbs though she had no true intentions of blinding her mentor.