Meadow

Isla's gregarious nature often prompted the same from those around her, but it seemed not even her blatant flirting was enough to lift this behemoth of a stallion from his dark and troubled thoughts. She knew the better part of valor was to then back down and let him stew in his own misery if he were so determined, but there was really no fun to be had in that.

"Quite," she answered cheekily to his opening question, a chuckle dancing through her words, even as he pretended to be unimpressed. She, however, could've sworn there had been a spark in his eyes as they'd passed across her lithe frame, and that was enough to keep her interested in the game.

"'Tis the season fer it, no? Even a plain lass can catch a man's eye once or twice." Emboldened, she taunted him again, aware of the risks but grossly misjudging their likelihood. "Why else would ye be chatting with me still - ye clearly aren't enjoying my sunny disposition-"

Her words cut off abruptly as he lunged for her, and the easy smile she'd worn up til now disappeared as she flinched away from the attack. "Oi!" But he didn't stop coming, and so she tried to keep dodging, her petite ears pinned against the nape of her neck as she danced away from his assault. In truth, Isla didn't immediately realize what he was doing until she was nearly at the edge of the Lagoon's border, the heavy, damp scent of swamp thicker here. She'd assumed he'd been trying something else and had been careful to keep her rump away and her teeth bared, but he hadn't even tried.

"Ye bastard," she spit - not for the first time since they'd started this dance. Sweat coated her peach colored body in thick patches from the exertion of dodging out of his reach and her chest heaved with each heated breath. "Just what in th'devil d'ye think yer doin'? Do I look like I've got a set of bollocks on me?"