Snowforest Taiga nibinaboug jiske

he lets go. in an instant, he is shifting, moving—tearing away from the bull’s leg and surging forward. his shoulder crashes into its flank again, but this time, it is not to unbalance—it is to bring it down.
his teeth snap, finding the tender place just below kuva’s hold. he does not hesitate. he crushes down, feeling the pulse weaken, feeling the bull’s strength drain, shake, fall.
its great weight collapses beneath them, sending up a burst of snow and dirt. his breath is heavy, chest rising, falling, his fur slick with blood that is not his own.
silence, then, for several long pauses, but then he gulps down a hot, vicious breath: mad woman, what is your name? looking upon her in astonishment.