Blackfoot Forest spit out your pride and lay yourself bare

Blackfell lay there for a moment, sprawled against the snow like some felled monolith. His chest heaved, clouds of breath billowing into the frigid air as her words lingered, sharp and raw, digging in deeper than any fang or claw could. The pulse of his anger thudded like war drums in his ears, drowning out the sound of the world around him.

She’d flipped him, bested him for even a moment, and yet it wasn’t the bruises or the sting of his split muzzle that burned most—it was her voice. Her truths slashed open wounds he’d been so careful to keep buried.

He should’ve lunged at her again, should’ve knocked her back into the snow and torn the smug defiance from her face. Instead, he lay there, blinking up at the pale sky, his muzzle still damp with blood—his blood—and watched as her shadow moved away, leaving him there in his own damn mess.

His muzzle twisted into a snarl as her words lingered, gnawing at him, their truths an irritation he couldn’t shake. Self-pity will get you nowhere. It was a knife to the gut, one she’d twisted without hesitation.

And she was right. Again.

With a low, guttural sound—half growl, half exhale—Blackfell shoved himself upright, the weight of his body sinking deep into the snow beneath him. “Don’t you ever shut up?” he rasped, his voice hoarse with rage and effort. His snout curled, blood trailing in thin rivulets down to his jaw where it froze in tiny droplets.

She smelled like frost and fire, like blood and defiance, and it made his head ache, his heart pound. He hated it. Hated the way it curled inside him, unrelenting. Blackfell exhaled sharply, shaking his head like he could dislodge the mess she’d left him in. Without another word, he turned away, broad shoulders hunched. For a moment, he looked smaller than what he was, if such a thing were possible. Sunken in on himself, bitten by the rot of defeat.

He finally spoke, voice quieter than it had been. “Fuck if I know.” His nose scrunched up. “The throne was mine. All I had to do was take it.” He lifted his head again, his eyes finding hers through the space between them, unblinking, feral in their intensity. “And then I woke up here. In this godsdamned forest. Nothing left of it but dirt, snow, and my name.”