Argilla watched dispassionately as the dog twisted and fell, recognising the way that it avoiding using one leg, the way that it yelped as it fell. A weakness that she could exploit if she needed to. Good to know.

In the moment that it took the dog to move, Argilla lashed out, the whip arm of Prithvi extending lightning fat to try and wrap around the dog's throat, the sharp spikes on her hand giving it a deadly grip so that she could draw it in or choke the life out of it.