Big and small, fire and ash; they dance together in a fury of snapping jaws and clenched muscles, neither leaving a significant mark on the other. Myrria stands firmly defensive as the misting rain weighs down her coat ever more, the lush forest now coming alive with curious birds flitting from branch to branch above them, singing of the scuffle below. Her ears twitch at the myriad of sounds now filling the area as her one seeing eye focuses on the threat ahead.

The female’s low growl does not deter Myrria as they are both frozen in contention. The rumbling is broken by the soft, rasping taunt - of which Myrria does not entirely understand. What is it exactly that this stranger expects her to embrace? Bloodshed? An overwhelming calm suddenly encompasses her mind as the silence fills the space between them once more. She has determination in her eyes and knows that continuing to succumb to this female’s whim will lead her nowhere. There is a twisted understanding being forged here and there is very little Myrria can do to explain it.

Her charcoal ears remain pressed back as she shakes violently to send collected rain water flying through the air. Her small paws begin to move forward slowly, muscles flexing with each movement and ready to dodge an onslaught, though she does not feel threatened any longer. Deep rosy eyes flit to meet the other’s in a solid stare as she closes the space between them, posturing confidently as her neck is lifted and head tucked very slightly. She presses past the threshold of the behemoth’s anterior and slowly encircles her to barely brush along her right side. Myrria’s body moves to curve back around the front of the bloodlusting stranger, keeping a one-foot buffer so that it is not too intimate and that she may look into her eyes again.

It is defiance toward her brutish control that Myrria stands so firmly now, swallowing her fear and channeling the brutish courage that her father once commanded.