She was not left to wait long.
The night's stillness was shattered by the furious stomping of paws, and Katja flicked her silvered gaze to follow the dark form as it approached her and coalesced into an only slightly-larger male form. She didn't recognize him, even with the moonlight lighting his brown-toned face, but his scent was unmistakably Olympian, and one of two alphas.
Good, they had decided to face her.
As soon as he reached her, the male launched into an angry tirade. She only listened impassively as he ranted, though inwardly she sighed. The fool - why did he waste his time and his breath with such asinine speeches? Did he truly assume that his impassioned words would drive her into begging his forgiveness, into leaving the challenge undone?
No.
He seemed to trail off then, either run out of words or expecting her to reply. If the former, she didn't want to give him the opportunity to find more words with which to fill the whole of the night with nonsense, and so she spoke to fill the void with her own cold, disinterested tones. "I do not strive to be a hero, Olympian." And what had given him the impression that she wanted to be considered a hero she did not know. She was a viking, not a soft Alacratian - the heroes in her culture were just as dangerous and flawed as any wolf alive. Even the gods were imperfect, though more powerful than their mortal kith and kin. She would never fit into the mold of Alacratia's goodly heroes and the idea of being so... soft, so weak, filled her with only disgust. "Nor do I intend to back down from my challenge whatever quaint speeches you may make." In case her pointed words did not make it clear, the viking slipped her body into a fighting stance, ready.
The black-eyed female earned nothing more than a blandly disinterested glance as she raged at Katja, offering to bring her to Virgil in the one hand while offering merely insults in the other. Her upset and anger was simply to be expected in this soft land that seemed to view fighting for your pack - fighting at all - as an imposition rather than an honor. Always so dramatic, these wolves. They acted as though she were eating their children, raping their menfolk, shitting on their gods rather than simply challenging their leader in open honest combat. She did not deign to answer either the fool woman's words, or her furious glare, merely keeping her gaze upon the alpha who had actually answered her challenge. She cared not for their whinging, or their threats, and their gods were weak and she did not fear them. Finally she raised her muzzle sharply, distaste written strongly on her face as she leveled an imperious stare at the male. "Enough talk, Olympian. Attack me or submit."
""
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