Neverwinter Forest and i sit on the curb 'cause it's the prettiest night

the snow crunched beneath his paws, the cold air filling his lungs like a battle cry. he could feel her energy crackling beside him—ranveigh arngeirrdottir, a woman eager to prove herself. that was good. but eagerness meant nothing if it wasn’t honed, if it wasn’t tempered by skill.

he turned to face her, squaring his shoulders, his broad frame casting a long shadow over the frostbitten ground. his single golden eye raked over her, weighing her stance, the sharp readiness in the way she held herself. a wolf bred for battle, a fighter by nature, just as he was.

good.

his head dipped, just once. come at me.

it was not a jest. not a courtesy. it was a command.

his body tensed, bracing for her strike. show me what you are worth.