Noctisardor Bypass the last few drops from the holy grail

As Etienne’s scent grew thicker, Anselm heard distant voices. He froze with ears thrust forward, nose twitching as he worked from the various visual, auditory, and scent cues the direction they’d sourced from.

As he moved towards them, a snarl threaded through the pines. Anselm’s heart dropped, fur on end.

He was close.

His ears strained as he came closer, every sense on high alert. In between a grove of pine and oak he saw a huge shape, Etienne staring resolutely back up at his captor as the beast’s shadow eclipsed his cinnamon form.

Anselm crept forward - eyes trained on the man’s back. When he was close enough — whether by detection or distance — Anselm lunged for the man’s spine where neck met shoulder. There was no shred of mercy, no hesitation — Anselm stormed in at full send, careless of his own potential harm.

There was only one imperative — and it was kill or be killed.