Cedar Sweep I'm just burnt out from pleasing you
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She wandered down from the top of the mountains, skirting the pack on the other side of the river.
They smelt strong enough and had many pups. She didn't want to take the chance and hurried on away.

But here it was pretty and mostly safe. She'll probably run into a scout if she lingers, but rest and scenery wouldn't do her bad. Vanity lay down in a shaft of sunlight that filtered down through the trees, her white mask aglow.
Her legs had lost more fur than she realised now her winter coat was gone and she could see the damage. Large patches of her skin were obvious even with her dark coat.

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment to bask in the warmth.
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Saints Of The Dying Light

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As was the usual these days, Nyra was out and about. Patrolling, mostly, but also hunting, keeping an eye out for other wolves. Others that she didn't know. Those that didn't smell of the Saints, or of her slowly growing extension to them - the Archangels. 

She felt bad most times, leaving Lotus in the care of others while the Empress did her duties. But she hesitantly assured herself it would be worth it, once they joined everyone else in the Copse. 

Today though, Nyra did a sweep through the cedars that clustered outside the Strath, and eventually came upon the oddly marked female resting in a patch of sunlight. Tail already raised high due to her status, the Battle Maiden pulled her ears forward and let out some hybrid combination of a chuff and a growl. Not an intentional noise, but one she forced herself to not react to for the sake of the interaction. Though a recruitment would be the desired outcome for Nyra, she'd waste no time to act, if they ended up fighting. 

For now, though...the Empress remained poised and quiet, seeing if the white-masked female would speak first.
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One second the coast was clear for her sunbathing, the next there was this big, white wolf coming in and not looking all too friendly. Perhaps she drifted to sleep.
Vanity's lips pursed, her red gaze pinning the wolf. A mother, certainly. From the nearby pack, and was perhaps a slightly higher up member. Why was she on patrol outside the borders?

Vanity rose up to her merger height compared to the grump bag before her. Her hackles raised and she started to assess the woman. What was her purpose?
"Looking for something?" She cooed with mirth hinting at her tone, wondering if she'd strike a cord. She didn't like to be disturbed so rudely. Perhaps she was looking for a snatched child - or a wandering one.
She started to slink around the woman, looking for weakness or backup.
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Saints Of The Dying Light

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It seemed the trespasser didn't like getting caught, especially by a powerhouse that was akin to a ticking atomic bomb. 
Or a supernova.

Seeing the ruby-eyed female's hackles raise, Nyra wrinkled her lip slightly to show the tips of her fangs. A warning, especially as Vanity asked if she was looking for something. 
A nerve wasn't stricken, but that didn't mean the Empress' patience wasn't already wearing dangerously thin. 

The white-face moved, probably to try and find a weak point, but Nyra had none. All her wounds from previous fights had healed by now. No part of her was being favored from injury, or anything else. Even still, the Battle Maiden kept her muzzle facing the trespasser, and kept her bulk firmly between the bold priss before her and the borders to the Strath. 

She didn't quite feel the need to use words with this woman. It felt like a waste of time, especially at the moment. 
With her tail held in full dominance, Nyra growled loudly with fully bared fangs and snapped her teeth at Vanity with a slight lurch toward her. 

Another warning, nonverbally written in big, bold letters: Get out, or you. Will. DIE. 

The other option, of course, was showing submission and/or recruiting to Nyra's ranks. In Nyra's mind, at least. She wasn't going to willingly make room for other options.
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Tension started to coil the air around its hand. Vanity's fire flickered, the drum of her heartbeat started to rock her.
However, her breathing was seven and her legs solid.
The woman lunged with a snap that caused the with to leap back a step. She could see now where she had grace, this lumberjack had none. She may feel fluent in war, but a chase through the trees would see Vanity the winner.
She flashed a grin.

"Now now dear, you don't want to start that."
Keeping herself soft and supple. She could leave the scene in a flash, and would turn tail should the behemoth decide she really wanted a taste.
"This isn't your land anyway, is it. No need to be so hostile like you own the fuckin' world, bitch."
The word rolled off easily as she switched to her native language, however she spoke it like it were merely just a name. And it was, it suited this woman. She'd have no idea, unless she too knew her language.

She stopped walking, watching the woman. They weren't evenly matched at all. Though Vanity could probably do some damage then escape if it came to it. However, she'd rather just run - no way she'd keep up for long.
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The stranger leaped back as Nyra feinted her lunge. 

The cocky smile from Vanity and the words she spoke meant little to nothing. The name calling rolled off Nyra's back like water from a duck.
Whether this cunt liked it or not - Nyra did own this land. The world, no. But her scent was weaved through these trees just as it was weaved through the Strath, and very soon - every inch of the Hinterlands. 

Nyra didn't need to prove her status to one so stupid that they couldn't already see the Empress as she was - Alpha, leader, monarch. 
Thus, she still didn't return words.
Instead, she grinned around her already bared teeth, something sinister and glinting at the clear intent to kill. A predator on prey. 

Cannibalistic

Nyra strode toward Vanity then, fur on end. It wasn't an all out charge just yet, but if the brazen hag didn't already start moving away, the Battle Maiden intended to crowd her space.

Either way, whether Vanity was already moving or not...

Nyra gave little to no warning as she exploded into a full on sprint. 
Massive, yes. Thus, easy to underestimate. And even though the War Phoenix held most of her physical power in strength and size, she was still incredibly fast and would be able to chase with ridiculous ease. Especially where she knew these woods so well. 

That is, if Vanity was able to get out of reach of Nyra's jaws fast enough.
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Here we go. Her feet started their little dance again like the first steps into the dancefloor. Tentative but sure.
Which direction? How about where she came from?
She certainly struck something because she was pissed. Moreso than she reasonably should be (but what was reasonable for a mother?)

That flicker of intent was enough to have Vanity start stepping away, luring her into the chase.
If Vanity had money to bet, she'd say Nyra came from that riverside pack she skirted around.
So that's where they'd go. Maybe.

Nyra started into her forward step, setting Vanity running in the opposite direction from the strath. She could hear her assailant behind.
Making a wide left, she circled around wide enough so she was very unlikely to be intercepted, and set course for the Strath.
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The female was already running away by now, and Nyra watched the dark pelt take a wide left far ahead. 

It must've been fate, that the Empress assumed where Vanity was headed for. 
Quickly, Nyra rerouted, weaving easily through the trees, taking every shortcut to get there first, and in remarkable speed.

This arrogant hag would not get in. No way in hell

Arriving at the borders, marked by skeletons of canine and bear alike, the Empress waited, hidden in the rocks and hopefully out of view. Her hellfire gaze scanned murderously for the stranger, nose and ears also on high alert. 

And wherever the arrogant cunt came from within the trees, Nyra would wait until Vanity got close enough, and then Nyra would lunge. Fangs arced and lethal and aiming straight for Vanity's face.

Of course, this was all also assuming that the masked wretch hadn't somehow found her way here before Nyra herself.
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The chase was swift all the way to the river that separated this woodland from the pack's.
She could hear it gurgling as she neared, but all the way, she could hear that woman. Taking shortcuts and certainly more surefooted. Vanity was used to mountains, not moss.
The soft ground didn't suit her pace.

She slowed, knowing that she was there. She had to be, lying in wait.
She couldn't cross the river anyway - not that she wanted to.
"Well well, what to do?" She stopped, watching the bushes for a flicker of white.
She panted, the run was exhilarating. 

They might fight. They might just have a pissing match. Vanity once again prepared herself defensively, knowing the other had the upper hand.

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She was indeed lying in wait. 
However, she was not in the bushes. And it seems that's where Vanity was looking. 

The Gates being one of the rockiest places in the Strath alongside the Chambers, there was many a ledge to watch from as the mountains sloped down into the trees. And Nyra, hidden as best as she could be in the rocks due to both fur color and size, was definitely taking advantage of it. 

When it at least looked like Vanity had turned her head to look a different direction than where Nyra was, (just about 8 feet above the ground on a lower ledge), the Warbeast rose quickly and attacked just as fast. Though the height from the ground was better suited for a cougar to ambush, it would work for now for her own. 

And so as Nyra came lunging from her perch, the Warmaiden aimed her teeth directly for the neck, preferably an area alarmingly close to the throat, but any major damage she could do to this hag, she wouldn't complain about. As long as Vanity left with bad limping, heavy bleeding, disfigurements or even dead, Nyra would be happy. 

The lion, the witch, and the audacity of this bitch. 
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She couldn't do anything, the flash of white was just too quick for her to react enough. All Vanity could do was cower and tuck her head, and hope that was enough to stop her throat from being ripped out instantly.
She snarled, letting this woman pin her with such a lethal grip, feeling like she'd rip her to shreds any moment.

"You know...this would be kinky...if you mounted me," she managed to huff out. And hoped it wouldn't get her killed. And if it did, those were some good last fuckin words for damn sure. Nah, not really, it was dumb. Fuck Vanity think of some cool shit to go out with. Was she already too late to talk? No ok still breathing.
Her tail lashed side to side like a wildcat's.

She didn't have time to think or move. She just...waited.
What else could she do?
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Saints Of The Dying Light

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Finally! 

She caught the damn bitch. 
But there wasn't much if any fear here. Just humor in the face of death. 
Interesting.

"You're not my type, pumpkin." Nyra purled in response, releasing her grip on the older woman and stepping back to let her get up. 
Her temper had gotten the better of her, but hopefully...

Nyra internally sighed. Hopefully it wasn't too late to recruit.