It's the strength that catches him off guard - even being slighter than most humans, he's that much more dense. Years of enforced training for several hours a day to be able to protect his master against any attack, then followed by keeping up his own strength to survive and keep his freedom meant that Fenris is not so easily thrown aside.

But then, he's encountered few who are so similarly deceiving, shrouded though she still is in his eyes.

Yet Danarius had never been so strong, and part of him had assumed that he would not have been able to escape his grasp no matter how he struggled.

He hadn't, before.

So he's unprepared as a hand reaches back, latches on, and wrenches him to the side. His footing slips as he's thrown off balance, and both hands release - on her and the sword - to catch himself as he stumbles, rolling quickly back up to his feet to prepare again for an attack. Lyrium thrums in his skin, building in power now that he finds himself too far from the sword.

Yet as he finds himself ready to face Danarius again, his form wavers and warps, twisting like smoke for a few brief seconds. Fenris blinks hard to clear his vision, and the person before him now is someone new entirely.

A woman. Elven, by the look of her, but dressed in fine clothes, the style a kind he's never seen before. But even with Danarius' image gone, he doesn't relax or let up his guard. If anything, he's that much more suspicious.

"Who are you?" he growls lowly.