You Better Get Up Out The Way

The moment Elysia's eyes met her own, signaling the attack, Absinth sprang forward with a snarling, primal laughter. Her lithe form moved with an effortless grace, muscles rippling under her skin as she closed the distance between herself and the nearest coyote. Her senses heightened, she could hear the rapid thud of paws against the earth, smell the musky scent of the coyote’s fear mingling with the scent of pine and earth.

Absinth's first target lunged at her, jaws snapping. She ducked low, feeling the rush of air as its teeth missed her by mere inches. In a fluid motion, she pivoted on her heel, bringing her claws up in a savage arc. They connected with the coyote's side, a spray of blood marking the strike as the creature yelped in pain. The thrill of the fight surged through her, and she couldn't help but laugh, a wild, unrestrained sound that echoed through the clearing.

Another coyote came at her from the left, but Absinth was ready. She leaped into the air, twisting her body to land behind the charging beast. With a swift, brutal efficiency, she raked her claws down its back, feeling the satisfying give of flesh beneath her fingers. It stumbled and fell, but she didn't have time to relish the victory. More were coming.

The pack was a whirlwind of movement around her, Aresenn's powerful strikes sending coyotes flying, while Elysia danced among them with deadly precision, her fangs flashing in the dim light. The chaotic beauty of their combat was mesmerizing, each member of their group a lethal artist in the midst of… creation. Bloody works of art.

Absinth's heart pounded with exhilaration. This was where she belonged, in the heart of battle, surrounded by the sounds and scents of conflict. She dodged another attack, rolling smoothly to her feet and slicing out with her claws in the same motion. Another coyote fell, and she felt the hot spray of blood across her fur, the metallic tang filling her nostrils.

Her laughter mingled with the growls and snarls of the fight. This was life at its most raw, its most real. As she moved through the melee, dealing death with every strike, Absinth couldn't help but revel in the pure, unadulterated joy of the hunt.

wormwood