Ayla's own battle dance ends in a crouch, panting for breath from the exertion. Their foes got a few blows in, but nothing she can't shrug off until later. Of course, part of that exertion comes from the fact that she was holding back and fighting around a particular handicap.

Straightening up, she holds up the youngling, gripping it by the scruff as best she can figure. "Now, what do about this one?"