Duskfire Glacier blood of my blood

blackfell snarls, a rough, guttural sound, grip tightening as she kicks against the ice. he feels the shift, the force behind her struggle, the way she moves to slip free.
clever girl. but he is stronger. sharper.
her taunt draws a short, sharp laugh—low, amused. or you’re weaker.
with a sudden, brute force, he jerks sideways, using her own momentum against her. weight drives down, aiming to pin her, to remind her who she is fighting. breath hot, wild, teeth flashing close.