Another one

As the bear’s roars softened into pitiful, childlike sounds, Vanta felt a twinge of unease. She was no stranger to the hunt, but the transformation of the mighty bear into something so vulnerable was.... jarring. The beast's grunts - reminiscent of a cub's call for its mother - stirred an unexpected and confusing empathy within her.

Vanta’s crystalline gaze shifted to the stranger, taking in the blood-drenched scene. His relentless assault, the arterial spray painting his charcoal face in a macabre mask, was both terrifying and fascinating. She had met many males in her life, but none quite as primal and savage as this. The men of the Armada had a reputation for combat, but never had she seen one take such enjoyment in the kill.

Yet, amidst the chaos and bloodshed, there was something else - his glances towards her, those moments of acknowledgment. They left her feeling exposed, almost shy. It was a strange sensation, feeling this kind of vulnerability not from being a hair's width from the snapping jaws of the bear, but from the intensity of the stranger with whom she battled.

As the bear finally collapsed, its strength sapped, Vanta released her hold. The brute, however, was still fervently engaged in ensuring the bear's demise. She took a step back, one limb raised and held in hesitance, absorbing the ferocity with a mix of emotion; admiration for the male's prowess, a disquieting sense of empathy for the bear, and an unfamiliar flush of self-awareness under his gaze. "I think it's dead." She remarked softly, unsure of what else to say.