Snowforest Taiga nibinaboug jiske

he doesn’t speak again right away. his breath still comes heavy, the cold air burning in his lungs. blood slicks his muzzle, his chest. the bull’s spirit, he hopes, runs swift into the next life.
she moves in close, bold, nosing at his side, his shoulder. he watches, unmoving, though a brow lifts at the closeness. her scent is thick with earth, sweat, blood, and victory.
ulfric, he answers, steady. voice rough. still catching his breath. ulfric of skarvheim.
a pause, as his gaze narrows slightly. you fight like something untamed. what are you?