Ravensblood Forest standing waves

crowell’s smirk deepened, teeth and eyes glinting with equal amounts ferocity.

aye, he chortles like a crooked brute. i’m a fighter. been one since the day i clawed my way outta my dam’s belly. he shifted his stance, his tail swaying lazily, though there was nothing relaxed about the way his gaze bored into nox.

two twin eyes uneasy, unsettling.

i lived through winters where the snow came up past yer shoulders, chewin’ on bones while others froze solid. when the rivers dried up, i dug deep, drank mud ‘til the rain came back.

he leans in. the look in his eyes just crazed enough to speak truth. he weren’t bullshitting. an’ when the hunger clawed at my belly like it wanted t’ split me open? i turned hunter. took from those too fat an’ slow t’ protect what was theirs. wolves, loners, even whole bands who thought their numbers’d save ‘em. it didn’t.

a growl comes not directed at any one wolf but moreso the brink of his existence. so, aye, i’ve survived. not by luck, not by mercy—by takin’ what i needed an’ leavin’ nothin’ fer the vultures. an’ if that ain’t enough t’ make yer decision, captain, then ye can point me t’ yer worst an’ see if i’ve still got fight left in me.