The Wall Toome

faust watched her bolt ahead, her defiance painted across every deliberate motion of her lithe form. his sharp green eyes narrowed, but his expression softened ever so slightly, a mixture of frustration and amusement crossing his features. the woman was spirited; he could not fault her for that. yet, she taunted him, and faust was not one to ignore such insolence.

his strides lengthened as he closed the distance between them, the snow crunching rhythmically beneath his paws. her silver form flickered ahead, and as her tail swayed temptingly, he reached out with precision. his teeth grazed the very tips of her fur, the gesture playful yet stern—a warning wrapped in jest.

you run like rabbit, iskava. careful you do not trip, he rumbled, his tone low but carrying a hint of teasing. his eyes gleamed with challenge, daring her to keep provoking him as he slowed his pace just enough to allow her space to react.