She has been left to her devices for far too long. The need to please is so overwhelming that Natiya does not think clinically. The dash for his paw is swift on her lean, long legs, but he is fierce and crazy fast. Much smaller and honed from several fights, judging by the scars that litter his youthful body. Much the same as her brother, who fought often and smiled with a vicious delight. As she lunges towards his paw with grace, he spins and bites her in the shoulder. A yelp is given as his teeth pierce skin for only a breif moment, blood pooling in her silver fur, and she spins around, masked face open in surprise at the pain.

It had been many many seasons since Blackthorne had ever physically attacked her. He had no need because Natiya was obedient. She followed each command to the letter. The pain here was so strange, so different, that she can merely stare at him with wide, opalescent eyes, mouth slightly ajar. It hammered home that this was real. This was no gentle game - he meant business.

Her eyes do not leave him as he paces. As he talks she begins to grow wary, watching now at the signs of his body. A warmth flows through her at his compliment, her breath hitching slightly. Awareness spreads. He is rugged and furious and handsome. Devastatingly so. It distracts her for only a moment as some internal warning chimes the moment he lunges. She back peddles, ears flat and teeth flashing only from instinct.

"So what do I do then?" He told her not to try and outpace him but what was she supposed to do? She understood his implied meaning - use her looks. But he KNEW what she was doing so this seemed.. fake. Still, she tries, letting a serene look ripple across her face and drawing herself up. Her grace is natural and she uses it, suddenly opening her mouth and she begins to.. sing. "Deep in the meadow, under the willow, a bed of grass, a soft green pillow," she sings, her larklike voice ringing and melodious as she sways slightly to her own tune, a haunted look in her eyes. "Lay down your head, and close your eyes, And when they-" midsentence she lunges, careful to have kept her captivating display. Natiya was a novice but she was a swift learner. Still, her ears had turned at that last second and if Zharko was watching, he would move, but like a swift bee, to aimed to strike his snout with a bite.