What up, Shawshank

The woman turned to face him and his eyes met hers just briefly but nothing about her registered other than where on her body he needed to bite to take control.  Nothing beyond that mattered.  She was his opponent and she would be taken down as brutally as he saw fit.  Fangs shredded across his muzzle leaving two bloody lines across the top, just inches from his nose but the sting was not enough to deter a brute who'd been christened with pain and trained for the arena.  Sigmarr's fangs latched into the left side of her neck and with a mighty push the woman was down on the ground.  Success…  Aerndís would be pleased.

The woman continued to struggle, fangs lashing out.  Sigmarr jerked back, moving his left foreleg just in time to avoid the woman's flailing fangs.  He moved to position himself over her before suddenly pausing.  Nostrils flared, taking in her scent.  What… what was this?  It was so familiar.  Eyes narrowed as he took another deep breath, no…. no, no this…. this couldn't be.  Sigmarr was so lost in his puzzlement that with a mighty jerk she slipped from his jaws and when their eyes met again it hit him.  "S…Sindri?  No… it… it can't be you….." Horror clawed up his stomach, shredding his entrails right to his heart.  This could not be happening…..