A Kiss To Make It Better

Teeth clamped down on her already injured knee and the Archer-Lyall grit her teeth. It was now or never and as much as she was loathe to make contact with the sharp rattling spines of the princesses armour, she was out of choices now. Sometimes you had to sacrifice your hide to gain the upper hand. Her teeth bit firmly (with no intention to pierce or tear, hoping only to pinch) the thin skin where thigh met belly and her shoulder connected with sharp spines, knowing some of the tips would probably break off beneath her skin and bring her grief for days, but hoping her weight would be enough to tip the smaller wolf over.

"speech".