Sleeping Dragon wake up, mr. west!

Okay, so a headbutt hadn’t been the greatest of ideas.

Whilst Hvitserk had landed his hit, the force of the impact had left him momentarily stunned. He had started to stumble back, but not without having first felt his sister’s paw collide with his muzzle. Several retreating steps later and he’d huffed, which was followed by a rough shake of his head as he attempted to clear away his daze. A mental note was made that he should not do as he just had unless if it was absolutely necessary—that recoil was wicked!

Once he’d recollected his bearings, the viking began moving with the intention of circling her. He kept his ears pulled back, the decision to do so having been an instinctual one, rather than conscious. Should he find a way to reach her side, the boy would, once again, rush her. This time, however, he would not ram his head into her. Hvit had chosen to aim himself towards her legs instead, acting with the purpose of throwing his entire body towards her in the hopes that he’d be able to unbalance her.