Blackfoot Forest battle

he matches her snarl with a toothy, grim, humorless sneer. his heart thrums to the beat of her battle cry. the vigor he sees in her, the ferocity, the bloodlust, fills his veins with a drive like no other.

he proclaims: he’ll survive. as much as the both of them would hate to admit, he was a ghastly bastard.

the jagged streaks of blood ahead spoke of desperation, a cornered beast clinging to what little life he had left. stark’s cowardice reeked as much as his wounds, and blackfell could taste the end drawing near.

but gjalla's fury comes with it's flaws. as does any fury. it is often the fate of any hot-blooded warrior. you’ll have your chance, it is his job to be the voice of reason against her plight. but cornered beasts still have teeth.