[ Halsin is so much larger than her, has always been so, but it feels more paramount in this form. She is no small wolf, a wild creature with teeth and claw to match it, but he is big; he barrels into her and she yelps, a whine of a sound that comes from her maw before she can stop herself, body twisting in the brambles and dirt as she kicks her legs to see if she might be able to shove at him.
As an elf, she is not strong enough to fight him off, she knows that. She does not think she would want to, as she enjoys his touch and his attention. As a wolf, she is able to put up more of a fight, play more of the game, and she growls as she shifts, turning her head to try and sink her fangs into the scruff of his neck, to snap at his legs, to nip at his jowls.
It is likely he will win, because she wants him to, but she wants to make him earn it, wants to see that he has proven himself as something akin to alpha, a natural need inside of her flourishing in a way she cannot fathom as anything other than instinctive desire. ]
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As an elf, she is not strong enough to fight him off, she knows that. She does not think she would want to, as she enjoys his touch and his attention. As a wolf, she is able to put up more of a fight, play more of the game, and she growls as she shifts, turning her head to try and sink her fangs into the scruff of his neck, to snap at his legs, to nip at his jowls.
It is likely he will win, because she wants him to, but she wants to make him earn it, wants to see that he has proven himself as something akin to alpha, a natural need inside of her flourishing in a way she cannot fathom as anything other than instinctive desire. ]