Tikki bounds up onto her hind legs, just briefly, and drives her forelegs 
against the elf’s chest. It’s like swatting flies or monkeys. She need hardly exert herself at all, yet the force of
the blow drives the elf back off his feet, slams him into the wall, and drops 
him to the floor. She has several times his mass and strength, and a speed and 
agility to equal any human, or any elf. She lets him stagger to his feet. She 
has time, time to do this right. Prey is best when taken on the run, possessed 
with terror for the hunter, heart pounding, blood thundering hot and rich 
through its veins. That is when the kill is truly a kill. That is when the meat 
tastes sweetest.