Some would say the Arklovian doe was reckless... Stupid... Mentally incapable of making good decisions. Bonnie wouldn't argue with them. Her dark pelt was a stain on the snowy northern reaches of Idris. Her body a petite bullet of honed muscle and rugged blood. She was made of the cold and stone, an amalgamation of generations of northern cervids, her ancestors building their genes to create the visage that stood before the warlord: A fearless doe, powerful in spirit and body, who would one day step up and take his place if he wasn't careful. She liked these spars with the dark man, enjoyed vexing him almost as much as she liked showing him just how quickly she was gaining ground on him.
Bonnie smirked and watched as he puffed up his chest, asking to get along with it. The end of his snout, teeth bared and prepared to chomp into her hardened flesh, met her vision and she braced herself, hooves wide and ready to strike at any moment. Unlike the warlord, she never had a pair of gleaming bone weapons sitting atop her head like some glorified crown. Instead, she had sharp hooves and fangs and the moxie to adapt and use them to her advantage. He, on the other hand, wasn't so intimately familiar with fighting with these much more permanent fixtures. It would be an interesting battle indeed. The scars that rounded the outer edge of her left eye tightened as did her glare. "We shall." Her voice was clear and cold. There was no emotion save for determination on her tongue or in her gaze.
Bonnie smirked and watched as he puffed up his chest, asking to get along with it. The end of his snout, teeth bared and prepared to chomp into her hardened flesh, met her vision and she braced herself, hooves wide and ready to strike at any moment. Unlike the warlord, she never had a pair of gleaming bone weapons sitting atop her head like some glorified crown. Instead, she had sharp hooves and fangs and the moxie to adapt and use them to her advantage. He, on the other hand, wasn't so intimately familiar with fighting with these much more permanent fixtures. It would be an interesting battle indeed. The scars that rounded the outer edge of her left eye tightened as did her glare. "We shall." Her voice was clear and cold. There was no emotion save for determination on her tongue or in her gaze.