In the cut just like a razor,

@Daighre

The tundra hung heavily close to Vanderfell. She could take one step below and already was the snow falling. It wasn't the biggest deal though, for the flaming beast she was large and plush in size, though wouldn't say bear-like, she could similarly store fat like one. So she would joke, but in the end Orlaith was just a rather large wolf, who didn't have too much going on within her noggin.

When she came down the mountain, the guard was greeted by the frosted pines.. And she sneezed.

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Fucking bullshit.

The north was just all just endless expanse after endless expanse of frozen land filled with freaks, creeps, and fucking losers. Wannabes, pretending they were something—someone—else.

He huffed.

Shook his head.

Focused on climbing upwards and away from the fucking godforsaken snow and into the mountains.

About to jump from one rocky, snow outcrop to the next one higher, climbing and walking fucking damned.

Until—

Achoo!

He flinched.

His paws slipping, sliding—skittering—and blunt nails scratching, scraping, on stone and snow.

“The fuck?” He barked, loud, defensive, and coarse. Catching himself from eating fucking shit and twisting, turning.

Looking, for the shitty fucking loser that sneezed.

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Orlaith felt she was minding her own business, not expecting anyone within the chilled weather. Though she knew that some claimed to the northern peaks, the everfrosts smelled of no one.. When she heard him, the guard immediately became hostile, "The fuck you say to me?" she crowed with a snarl rumbling from her throat. It took a moment to find the bastard as he was hidden within the trees, like the coward he was.

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‘The fuck you say to me?’

He snarled. His hackles raised and bristling, and his teeth bared as his eyes found hers. The upper right corner of his top lip already peeled and twisting in a sneer.

“I didn’t fucking say anything to you.” He snapped. Spat. Tail twitching and his ears pressed back against his head. And how the fuck he ever fucking missed her in the first place was beyond him. Bitch was fucking massive, and fucking red, black, and white among the trees.

And then, just because he could—

“Fatass.” He added, his lips curling, around the word.

Seriously, it was like her mom had fucking fucked a bear, or something.

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"Scrawny motherfucker, you wanting to pick a fight?" Though in reality he may not actually be small, to Orlaith at the moment he looked like akin to that of a rat itself. The colors, the eyes, the size? What else was he even in word spoke of pure shit like that of a rat eating. She huffed and puffed, fur in an obvious thistle while growling, and even snapping toward him - challenging him to go further if he so dares.

Fuck this guy.

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“Fuck you!” He snapped—

And lunged, open-mouthed and snarling.

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The man lunged at her and she greeted him back with a jowl of snapping teeth. Heavy body pressing upon him, she didn't truly care where her jaws went as long as it started to graze against his face. She pushed though, trying to back this annoyance of a man into a corner. She could feel her feet gliding onto the snow front, as Orlaith lifted a paw and slammed it further into the snow drop, trying to grab a steady gaze as she would desire that bulldozing of the man while gladiators of sword-fangs flied in the air, spit too following.

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Body hitting body.

Colliding, midair, with hers hitting like a fucking brick wall.

Shoving him, backwards and upwards. His back paws finding traction and his front paws all but lifting as she pushed him.

Teeth catching—grazing—his cheek, breath and spit following.

And—

“Stop fucking pushing, you fat fucking bear—” He snapped. Shoving her the fuck back, parted jaws, aiming, for her fat fucking mug.

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"Stop being a pansy and take it like man," she hissed back at his protest to her pushing — though he should've known that would make her press even more upon him. She even put more forced as her backlegs stomped into the ground, claws curling for a grip as she urged him down, Orlaith wanted him to kiss her feet in submission. Though, he did get her snout, and she growled in a protest and anger while attempting to shake her head around with hope of releasing a grip.

Though still didn't back down.

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His teeth found purchase in the skin and flesh of her muzzle, and—

She shoved him, again.

His back paws slipping, sliding, in the snow. Dull claws finding—grabbing—nothing. And downwards and backwards he fell.

Landing, on his back, beneath her.

Mouth letting go when the back of his head bounced, jarred, against the ground and snow.

“Fucking bitch—” He snapped, lifting himself upright, back and shoulders curved and arched, aiming to bite her neck, her chest, his tail tucked towards his stomach and back legs curled. Front paws pushing, shoving, at her legs and chest.

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An air of triumph of pushing this bastard to the ground in thought he finally would give in. Such an attitude needed to be put down — though it seemed he wasn't one to give up as she let a hardy laughter out in a mocking of a tone. Insulting her so! Was met with a snarl, as she could feel his teeth wrap to her chest in a piercing of flesh itself. She dangled her own head down to grab the top of his neck, head, anything she saw to grab a bite.

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Fucking shit.

Big fucking bitch wouldn’t fucking get off of him, and he felt as her teeth pierced the skin at the top of his fucking head.

He grunted.

Let go of the meat of her chest.

And grabbed her front leg.

Chomping.

Biting.

Wiggling, squirming, and still pushing and shoving at her undersides, now with all his paws.

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She seethed in the pinch as his aim was no longer at her chest, but instead jaw-locked onto her leg. It was an angry thrashing of so as she tried to lift it to get it away, but was locked into him. Yet, she didn't move away from being ontop of him, as snapping continue in a downward wave of assault as she kept a demand for 'come at me!' as he didn't give up. Yet none of her snipes were that of death itself, more of bloodlust that she wanted to smear from him.

A snarl ripped from her mouth, "Submit!"

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She lifted and moved her leg.

Angrily, and violently.

Flailing.

Thrashing.

And stubbornly he remained.

Letting his head be snapped, pulled, dragged with each jerky movement. Biting down harder.

And—

“Fuck you!” He snarled. Muffled, by her leg between his teeth. Fur between his teeth. Pressed against his tongue. Teeth piercing flesh.

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"Fuck you!" An echo of chamber as he stood his ground with words of insult that Orlaith whipped right back. She growled and snarled as teeth clamped around her ankle, and irritation continuing to hiss with his unhinging jaws. She held her other paw up and started to stomp his very head, a demand to let go as it was damn well hurting! Though she felt not bone crunching, she could feel her skin peal by the fangs and coursing through the flesh. 

She stomped wildly like that of a wildebeest, occasionally snapping below with her fangs.

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She started to kick, and stomp—

And finally, his hold was jarred loose.

Jarred loose in favour of him pressing his eyes shut and snapping blindly at each oncoming stomp, front paws raised in a vain attempt to take the brunt of each blow before it landed.

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The man knew not when to concede. He continued without a pause of effort and even when his grip was loosen all he did was try to brace himself and snap — not even look at her. She snorted, a huff as it was no longer any fun but more felt she was bullying this man. She had believed it was victory in the end, and stepped away from him cautiously, avoiding any twist and turns that he took. Orlaith gave a distance between the two, a glare to his fallen form, and a slow glance to her own injuries. Especially her leg, that bled lightly to the ground itself.

"Do you yield?" She asked, a command in her voice full of hostility, and a ready to go. Though both injuried, Orlaith was more then ready to take him on again. She didn't want to leave this as a stalemate, no — she wanted him to admit to the defeat. She desired that from him, to see his ugly mug utter those words. The warrior was stanced to a prowl, almost expecting him to continue on with his denial, and round two, to begin.

There was a smirk, challenging it.

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He skittered.

Ran.

Darted.

Rolling to his feet, and away. Backwards. Putting space between them, and watching, waiting, panting.

The taste of blood was sharp on his teeth.

And—

He snarled.

Snapped.

Spat.

Hackles bristling and his stance low.

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If Orlaith could scream to the heavens itself she would, because for the life of her he would not give in. She won, clear as day within her opinion and yet he continued his reign of terror, bloody and battered it seemed not matter. And it was extremely annoying, at this point she charged full force — her head swinging as she used it as an club and swung at his head in a bashing. Her head rung, it sang and hummed as it splintered to a headache but she would hope it would render him unconscious, while grabbing his face..

And shoving it into the dirt.

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