Amalia
They circle, a mishmash of teeth and fur and all-too-human eyes that glint with hunger for release. Amalia's paws touch the ground as lightly as a feather, prepared to send her springing up or away at the slightest provocation. She watches for an opening, felid and feral, anticipating him to flee from her and her instincts, her strength, her teeth and claws.
It is this anticipation that proves her downfall, for in the mind of a leopard hunting a luxere, she forgets he is the experienced hunter, and she the cocky prey.
The lunge is sudden and surprising, then, too unexpected for Amalia to react with anything like grace. Indeed she does backpedal in alarm, but her dodge is too little and much too late. The antlers and the man catch her chest, sending the girl wheeling back. Even as she tries to twist away she is unsuccessful in a full evasion, managing only to land her forepaws on the ground before the weight of him knocks her feet from under her, leaving her sprawled on the earth, the wind blownfrom her lungs.
It is this anticipation that proves her downfall, for in the mind of a leopard hunting a luxere, she forgets he is the experienced hunter, and she the cocky prey.
The lunge is sudden and surprising, then, too unexpected for Amalia to react with anything like grace. Indeed she does backpedal in alarm, but her dodge is too little and much too late. The antlers and the man catch her chest, sending the girl wheeling back. Even as she tries to twist away she is unsuccessful in a full evasion, managing only to land her forepaws on the ground before the weight of him knocks her feet from under her, leaving her sprawled on the earth, the wind blownfrom her lungs.
