Blackfoot Forest battle

her gaze snaps to the hollow, barely discernible against the ridge’s frozen surface. a crow perched upon it — squawks at them from a distance. blackfell urges her forward, and so she follows. stark’s scent clings to the air, thick and rancid, and every instinct screams at her to move, to strike, to end this.

“wait,” she commands, and he stops, twists his head back to glance at her. gjalla steps forward, closing the distance between them as they near the mouth. her eyes fixed on the hollow, her mind racing through the possibilities.

after a moment, she composes herself. she exhales slowly, a plume of white against the cold. “he might not be alone.” she mutters. “if the woman who followed him is with him, do not let her intervene. kill her, if you must.” an unfavorable outcome, but a possibility nonetheless. in the end, it would make no difference to saatsine. they wouldn’t even have to know.

gjalla’s gaze flickers back to the hollow, her ears twitching as she strains to catch any sound, any sign of movement. there is thrashing, she thinks. life. perhaps the trickle of water.

her lips curl back in a snarl as she steps closer to blackfell, her voice dropping to a growl. “help me move this.”

they do not get the opportunity to. the tree shifts, and out comes the snake.