Silver Moraine kill

the two were born to this.
he knew it as well as he knew the rhythm of his own breath, the beat of his own heart—this was what the gods had shaped him for, what the ice had hardened him into. a predator, a war-machine, a beast given purpose only in the hunt.
and she, the shadow at his side, was the same.
she moved with the ease of one who had chased death before and won. so had he. but their pursuit was not of each other, only the creature that stumbled ahead.
its fate was sealed the moment it faltered.
his muscles coiled, honed, a bowstring drawn taut—
she surged, and he was beside her, but he would be the first to strike.
now.
a burst of power, a final push—he lunged.
his fangs found flesh, clamped tight around the thick muscle of its throat. momentum carried him forward, weight thrown into the creature’s failing balance. it buckled beneath him.
blood spattered hot against the snow.
it was done.