AND WE'LL NEVER BE ROYALS
IT DON'T RUN IN OUR BLOOD
THAT KIND OF LUXE JUST AIN'T FOR US

She had tussled with her brothers before. Locke particularly as he was so prone to his own anger that it was always easy to incite him into battle. Though her bleeding heart of a brother had always managed to outmuscle her, it taught her important lessons. It taught her to be light on her feet, to use how she was built to her advantage instead of trying desperately to fit into the strong and stout character that others seemed to desire. She was an all rounder, strong and fast enough but not particularly one way or the other. Yet it made her have the endurance to last. She finds her mark, though it's hard to keep a good grip on the leg. She can feel Hausis relaxing underneath her jaws and it only incites her to bite down harder. The old wolf stretches her leg out and Hepzibah's grip slides. It was a good trick, but what's left of her grip she shakes her head violently. One last attempt to make the older wolf three-legged lame, but it's clear her efforts show little effect.

She ignores the jab at her, more focused on action than on words. Words were meaningless. At three years old, Hepzibah had learned this the hard way and would never again place any meaning in what others promised. She would show them that she was a Demon, she would not fail her blood. Her mother was a Queen, a warrior. Her father a General, a solider. Hers was a strong blood. She can see Astaroth rocking back and forth as he respected her demand that this was her kill, this was her fight. She could take on the smaller she-wolf. She would manage to pin her to the ground.

Hausis lunges again, grabbing hold of Hepzibah's neck and the Demon pivoted so that her own jaws reached out for the nape of the old wolf. Hausis may be skilled, but Hepzibah was bigger, younger, and had the desire to show the world what she was made of. If she succeeded, if her teeth sunk until Hausis flesh it would be a battle of wills as to who would be the one that was pinned down. For the time being, it was a seemingly stalemate. Hausis tried desperately to continually pin her down. Hepzibah contented herself with staying upright, though the mud surrounding them was certainly getting slicker and she found her paws slipping every so often. It was seemingly a stalemate. Snarls in frustration echo from Hepzibah, but she does not register the pain of Hausis' grip. Later on, she would probably be sore, but now the adrenaline masked the pain and her only thought was victory. From the corner of her eye she heard Astaroth growling, though she was somewhat surprised that he listened to her declaration of her own right to this fight. She had never thought too much of the boy before now, but now, she considered him a wolf that was her own. Perhaps even more so than her own brothers.

WE CRAVE A DIFFERENT KIND OF BUZZ