The moment the small hurricane of anger collided with the much large woman, he rained upon her thickly-furred chest a downpour of snarling bites and strikes of his forepaws. Nothing was held back as the boy acted just as viciously as his anger demanded he do, and his attacks were meant to tear and split her flesh. Yet his own pathetic size worked horridly against him, and he was able to do next to no damage at all to Hecate. Worst yet, she only allowed him a few moments of this flurry before simply pushing him away with an insulting ease. His own inadequacy further fueled the fire that was consuming him, and as he stumbled backward, his teeth and eyes were already flashing in hopes of regaining their mark.
Her words caused him to pause halfway to her, for they sounded ridiculous within his ears. He didn't understand what she was doing, could not fathom any reasoning behind this taunting and ridiculing, and certainly couldn't understand why it had been his yelp that had given him away. She should have seen this coming the moment she spewed that lie at him.
Yet without intention he heeded her advice, springing at her once more with violent aims. This time he wanted to latch onto one of her forelimbs, where both the fur and meat were thinner and he could hopefully do some damage. That boy wanted to taste blood.