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he rebounds almost as quickly as he fell, snow spraying from under his paws. pride lifts his hackles higher than anger ever could, and beneath it is a stubborn spark struck by failure, the desperate need to do better on the next pass.

this time he rises instead of driving straight through, forelimbs striking for her face and chest. claws rake air where her muzzle had been a heartbeat earlier; gjalla jerks her head aside, one set of nails grazing the dense fur over her clavicle and pulling a shallow sting across the skin beneath. her lip curls. better.

she surges upward to meet him, one foreleg hooking behind his nearest wrist as his hind paws scramble for purchase. at the same time, she drives her chest into his centerline and twists. the motion is compact, brutal in its simplicity.

his balance, already compromised by the rear, is taken from him. gjalla bears down as he drops, teeth flashing to seize the loose fur at the side of his neck—not enough to puncture deeply, but enough to pin, reminding him exactly of how exposed he is. her weight presses through him, grinding snow beneath their bodies. her breath fans hot against his ear.

you are not thinking, she tells him, that is why you are losing. awareness of oneself and one's opponent was paramount in all conflicts. attention missing is an advantage lost. she holds the natural advantage of experience, but all he must do to counter it is find her weak points. even gjalla could not be so impervious.

her jaws loosen and she releases him at once, stepping back to grant him room to reset. again she lowers her stance, periwinkle eyes fixed on his face, bright as ice. again—with intention this time, yes?

torgar did not know how he came to be on the ground!
she had done some evil thing with her paws, ground their bones together. her teeth worried his nape until he became afraid she might truly maul him. but the eivorsson listened when the strong stranger pressured him into the snow and gave instruction.
released, he leapt to his feet again, spun in a circle, and felt the short sharp breaths hawking from his throat.
tongue lolling, he panted through nerves, watching the woman with equally shining eyes. taller than him, more powerfully built, he saw that he had not evaluated her properly before. there were few advantages here that might be seen.
but she waited, and so torgar caught his breath, moving into his own cadence.
claws had caught where jaws had not. a nod, and he launched himself at the warrior once more.
nails, lashing; he dropped low to hopefully dodge first slash and came up with a shoulder aimed toward the base of her throat, locking hindlegs into a tremble for balance's sake.
teeth would attempt a counter of her own next; torgar was not assured of his success, but this seemed a better strike than before.