Swiftcurrent Creek little puppet made of pine.

A chink in Figment's resolve appeared. For whatever reason, he hesitated now, with their target in view, when before there had been nothing but dogged determination. River bristled with anticipation beside him. The wolverine was unaware and primed for the two of them. Their best tactic would be to strike fast, strike hard, and strike now. What was the hold up?

When he looked back at her again, concern brimming in his apple-green eyes, she suddenly felt that she was the reason he held back. Her mere presence had given him second thoughts about the assault, and though a part of her was flattered at the thought of his regard for her well-being, it was such a small part that the sentiment would go unnoticed until reflecting on it later. All she felt in that moment was insulted.

She was loathe to take her eyes off their mark, even as he asked if she was sure.

River met his gaze intently, for the slimmest moment, and gave him a single, firm nod. Her eyes were back on the wolverine the next instant. And she would not give Figment another second to reconsider his position, for she streaked forward without warning -- jaws wide and aiming for the large creature's haunches. The startled beast, caught completely offguard, turned towards them in furious surprise.