I Write Sins Not Tragedies

He sat on the tree, pretending that the rising waters didn't scare him, that the wind and rain didn't make it difficult to see. He sat, strong and proud through the torrent seemingly unaffected by the harsh weather. "That's quite the temper you have." He snickered, his soaked tail flicking listlessly behind him as she spat more of her useless, forced assertive, dribble. He yawned,"Oh, you have a mate? How unfortunate for him." He deadpanned. He was growing tired of her, he found he futile attempts to prove that she was not a spineless milksop to be rather boring. A light chuckle escaped him, followed by a bout of laughter, "What? The little puppy can't hold me down herself?" He teased. " Does the little puppy need her big scary brother and her big strong mate to fight for her?" He turned to leave her to die, but before he could the foolish whelp bit into the back of his thigh, and he had no doubt he would have fallen into the water had he not grabbed the tree by the bark at the last second. His torso was curled around the tree, front paws clinging to the underside of the tree, strong enough to hold the both of them above the water.

He snickered as her fangs dug deeper into his flesh, pain searing through his leg. Slowly, he turned his head to look at her. A single orange eye, wide and full of bloodlust looking into her two tones. "Here, let me show you how it's done." He hissed, with a sudden jerk his head snapped forward, and for a moment, time seemed to be suspended in thick fluid as he lifted his paws from the tree and allowed the entirety of his weight to fall backward. His body plunged into the water, his spine arched as he sank, glowing embers cutting through the dark, murky water to find his quarry. She would not walk again if he had his way, and most of the time he did.

"Speech"
'thoughts'