The mud was no matter of concern. She was already mostly naked and filthy, it was nothing a good soak in water wouldn't fix. However, Enyo was not going to stand for such manhandling. Dionysos may have had a slight advantage on her in the size and preparedness department -since he knew his own fighting tactics and she currently did not; but she made up for that deficiency with speed, flexibility and precision with her limbs. She was born to fight. It was in her blood. Violence in pure essence coursed through her veins.
There was a shout of frustration and a spin of her torso that had her legs whipping around in an attempt to swipe his own and knock him to the ground. She would pin him if she could, then she would cut him and see what sort of blood spilled forth from the mad god. Perhaps she'd even taste it, for no other reason than because she could.
How dare he cup her breasts and then drop her to the ground as if she were some common tramp.