I'm no good at a one night stand
He had finally recognized her. He had reared back, almost as though he was in shock. He spat words at her, her brows furrowing in brief confusion. But there was no time to dwell. She may have been looking at him, but he still stood to her left. He launched his behemoth form forward, rage spilling from every pour. Eyes widened briefly before she scrambled to her feet, hips stepping to the right in an attempt to put him directly in front of her. Hind legs would bend deeply, spreading wide, her left hind leg sliding farther back in preparation for the collision. She would exhale, defenses settling into place: eyes narrowed, ears pinned, hackles raised, crown level with spine, chin tucked, tail aligned with her spine, legs spread equidistant and bent at the joint, weight evenly distributed, shoulders rolled forward and neck scrunched, toes splayed, and claws digging into the ground.
A severe bruise flared across her chest as they collided, chest to chest, she would slide back, but not tumble. Thankfully her exhale had saved her from having the breath knocked from her lungs, but it still hurt. Each breath after this would surely cost her. Due to her movement, his attempted bite to the base of her skull would fall short. But his fangs would not miss entirely. His towering height would allow his fangs to reach over her and grasp the lower left side of her scruff. He would puncture her skin, leaving moderate wounds. His right forelimb would lift, doing nothing more than scrape along on her side uselessly due to her new position. |
image copyrighted to Lakela on dA