Bearclaw Valley Clash of kings

d: 4 hit / a: 12

Tvar braced himself as Cole surged forward, his sharp eyes narrowing as he read the incoming attack. He adjusted his stance, angling his weight to meet the charge—but the speed and precision of Cole’s movement caught him off guard. Tvar had underestimated just how quickly his packmate could close the gap.

The impact was solid, Cole’s shoulder driving into Tvar’s side with enough force to unseat his balance completely. A grunt escaped his throat as his paws skidded across the snow, the momentum sending him sprawling sideways. He hit the ground hard, the cold biting through his thick pelt as he scrambled to regain his footing. There was no frustration in Tvar’s expression, only a faint flicker of acknowledgment as he pushed himself upright. He shook off the snow clinging to his fur, his sharp blue eyes locking back onto Cole with renewed focus.

Without hesitation, he surged forward, his broad frame cutting through the crisp air with practiced precision. He aimed higher, attempting to drive his shoulder toward Cole’s chest, a calculated move to test the other wolf’s ability to counter at close range. As he neared, his jaws snapped in Cole’s direction, not to strike but to feint and distract, hoping to throw the other wolf’s focus just enough to create an opening.