Lylith’s lips grew raw as the bark’s roughness scraped against them with each forceful bite. Her teeth were a shade of faded pink, a result of bleeding gums dripping down into her mouth and mixing with saliva. It would certainly hurt later, but for now the adrenaline of it all numbed the aching sting.

The approach of the other was unknown, and honestly had she known she likely wouldn’t have given them a second thought. But they chose to close in, even going as far to speak to her when she was CLEARLY busy. Lylith snarled through the chunks of woodschips and splinters that lined her tongue and stuck to her cheeks.

Who the hell did he think he was? That’s none of your damned business, she sneered, head angled upward to make glaring eye contact. Fuck this guy and fuck his height.

It took a moment to register she’d known who he was, or at least she kind of did. It was one of the wolves from that fucked up fighting ring in celebration of their corpse of a king. Shouldn't you be at home, kissing your new king’s ass?