Kill the World With Whatever it Takes

The indignant rage at getting hit so hard kept March from feeling too bad about the opportunistic attack. Her head continued to ache even as her jaws wrapped around the other girl's shoulder, hitting their mark exactly the way she intended. The metallic taste of blood seeped from the bite as Brida moved, teeth digging deeper into skin, but the girl didn't feel too bad about that either. Any advantage was a good one, especially against an opponent as big and strangely formed as this one.

She felt her rear back, her teeth dug in deeper with the movement as the two rose their hind legs. March felt strong arms wrap around her and press her deeper into the bite, one massive paw nearly at the back of her head, pinning her full force into the girl's neck. This was all well and good, before March realised she couldn't breathe. She squirmed in vain, head unable to break free of the hold as she gagged on navy fur. Despite her determination, she knew when she was beat. She moved a light toed paw to frantically pat Brida's back to "tap out", completely at the larger girl's mercy.

When [or if] released, she'd return to the ground to hack up swallowed fur, and shoot the girl a glare when she was done with the activity. If it hadn't been for those bear paws, she'd have won, no doubt about it. Why had this mortal been blessed with such a feature, while she was left to rot?