[center][color=335566][h2]Анна[/h2][/color]

Sensing the bar keeps movement in accordance with the loud sound she retreated farther again through the tavern. Dashing up across on of the fsrther set tables much faster than those of a heavier weight or slower agility than the wild girl had. Even if clayton had reached her fast enough to catch something of hers hed be met with only easily tearable chunks of fur from the coat as it swung about on her frame during her own movements. The bottle once clutched in her hand had been droped at the sudden sound and made its way to the floor as she moved. If it was to hit, its remaining contents would splatter and their effects to any but Anya would be unknown. Its smell again seemingly the one most had come to associate with the feral girls appearance. Perhaps it was the source. [@Dark Light]

Clambering then back farther from the two still even after his initial lunge. Keeping tables and chairs of the tavern between them. She had lest let out much of a sound, more of a continuous whimper. One that had  rought feral beasts from lunges before and would usualy bring such to her own aid.  It is also from there one would notice the lack of her boots on her feet, the calluses that decorated them, the burns and bruises that truely dotted her skin when it is revealed werent often noticed. Hidden by dried mud, dirt, or even ash, but for the most observant they were there clearly, and one could only think how far they extended. [/center]