Duskfire Glacier stolen breath

keshka waits. waits just long enough for his grin to grow wide and cocky, for his chest to rise with the satisfaction of having her beneath him. that’s when she strikes.
a sharp twist of her shoulders, using the slick of snow beneath her back to slide just enough. her hind legs coil, and with a sudden, violent shove of her back paws into his belly, she throws him off balance. not far—but just enough.
she’s faster. always has been.
before he can recover, she surges up and rolls them, their bodies crashing in a tangle of limbs until it’s her weight pressing down now, her foreleg braced across his throat. her face lowers, eyes burning bright and sharp as steel, and she snaps her teeth just over his nose—close enough that he feels the wind of it, the pinch that almost was.
slow, she says again, voice dark with triumph, breath panting against his cheek.