The Wall Toome

faust sprinted after ice woman, muscles rippling beneath his weathered coat as he closed the distance. he watched her reckless charge with a mix of frustration and concern. her impatience had cost her—a swift kick to the face that sent a spray of blood onto the pristine snow. the sharp scent of it filled his nostrils, distracting and unnecessary.

she doesn't know these lands, he thought, too impulsive.

grunting under his breath, faust refocused on the fleeing doe. there was no room for error now. he surged forward, his larger frame moving with practiced efficiency. drawing parallel to the doe, he positioned himself to intercept. with a powerful leap, he latched his jaws onto the underside of her throat, feeling the frantic pulse beneath her hide.

a sharp pain exploded in his abdomen as a hoof connected, but he held firm, refusing to let go. his grip tightened, muscles straining. through clenched teeth, he shot a glance toward the ice woman, his eyes flashing a clear message: now is the time.

if she could pull herself together, they could bring the doe down. together.