The elder's commentary did not sit well with Ziv. He said this as though it were not a good thing, as though her not being bred for assassination somehow made her weaker, less capable. Eyes narrowing, she looked him over. He was an elder, and therefore he deserved a certain level of respect. Despite him being an outcast, and therefore worthless, he had still served Hades well in his time, and he had done much more than other elders that had not been cast out. For those reasons, Ziv would speak to him in the manner he deserved. But she was still going to take his life.
"Nikdy som nemala začať strážca. Majster verí, ma už." Like many hounds, Malcoda had started as a guardian and moved through the ranks to escort. Ziv did have pride, but she felt she had earned it. How many hounds as young as she were let topside, were trusted with such important work?
She approached her opponent slowly, treading on the dead ground with careful paws. The winter sent a chill through her, making her long for home but she pushed that thought away quickly. She would have to focus all her attention on Malcoda. He would be fast, and sharp, he would move unexpectedly and try to use her own actions against her. She was close to him, incredibly close, close enough to feel the heat radiating from him. Keeping her body low, her gaze locked with his for one moment longer, and then she lunged toward him. She did not attack yet, though, instead rearing herself back onto hind legs just before contact could be made, her wings spread behind her and flapping once, the frozen dirt and leaves on the ground kicking up around them. It was then, in the midst of wind and dirt and chaos, that she struck, sharp teeth clamping hand on Malcoda's right shoulder, claws tearing into his chest.