In so many ways, the two women are uncannily similar. That fact does not escape Heartfire as she meets those fierce hazel eyes with her own icy gaze. Rather than bothering her however, it brings a faint glint of humor with it. Neither were willing to budge an inch in their respective beliefs. The battle lines had been drawn and the gauntlet thrown, and she suspects the only way such a feud might end is upon the death of one or the other. Perhaps she could end it easily enough (it would be so easy to kill, to make her disappear as though she had never been), but what entertainment would there be in that?
No, Ellyse had insulted her, had started this particular spat. Heartfire had simply shown her, in no uncertain terms, just how wrong she was. And if the woman could not handle being wrong, well, that was not Heartfire’s cross to bear. Besides, it would provide endless entertainment. Especially if the other woman could not learn to contain her anger.
And so it is with confidence derived from absolute certainty in her capabilities that she allows the paler woman to entrap her against the tree. To push her back, bristle in obvious outrage as she spits fire over an event she has no true control over.
Oh how that must grate, to know that she has finally found someone who could match her. Someone who could best her. Heartfire is fairly certain the golden woman has never experienced true defeat before.
And that, perhaps, is where they differ. Heartfire has been humbled by fear and pain and defeat. She knows what it is, and she knows how to overcome it. She has known the worst and survived with her will intact. Ellyse has yet to truly know such a thing. So Heartfire allows her to intrude far too closely upon her space, offering only a faintly mocking smile in the face of her righteous fury.
When the woman spits her accusatory words into her face, Heartfire does the only thing that she can in that moment: she laughs. It is a short, lilting sound filled with genuine humor. Shifting, she reaches out, her dark muzzle pressing a short, tauntingly gentle caress along the other woman’s cheek. Her lips trace a faint line before drawing up to her ear, her whisper falling softly into the air beside the curved lobes. “I’d like to see you try.”
Her throat is just there, tempting, taunting. Daring her to do as she suggested.
