SPIT IN MY FACE!

Nimue smelled him first- the unfamiliar musk of a stranger dancing in the breeze, beckoning her forward like a moth to a flame. But it wasn’t just that he was a stranger. There was something foreign about his scent, yet distinguishable to the girl. Oh yeah, he belonged to a pack, alright. The thing about being a wolf, was you could figure these sort of things out just by smelling someone. But hey, what did that matter? The most interesting thing had already been pointed out. A stranger from another pack was here. Trespassing. In her ‘new home’. That justified some violence, right?

Following the scent, Nimue honed in on him like a bloodhound thirsting over its quarry- methodical in her movement, predatory in a sense, as her tiny body leaped over the mangled roots of trees and the occasional boulder. Venturing deeper, immersing herself in the disfigured scenery. Nimue pursued her target until his large, crimson body came into view- having paused to look around at the forest, probably captivated by its appearance. She hoped to take him off guard if he hadn’t noticed her yet, and take his hesitance as an opening.

Shooting off on her hind legs like a rocket, gliding across the forest floor like a serpent, as she closed the distance between them. Her jaws agape and outstretched towards his right hind leg, as she sought to grab him by the hock. In sync, her front right paw would rise and try to hook around the same leg, to disrupt his balance.  

”Speech”