Firefly Glen verast

raedwulf rips free from the sow’s flesh, blood hot on his tongue, and turns. snow flies beneath him as he bounds after the red man, shoulder burning, lungs drawing cold fire. the bear roars behind them, her rage shaking the pines.
only when the forest swallows them, the trees tight and close, does he slow—breath heaving, body trembling from exertion, not fear. both slow strides in tandem it seems, the heavy beat of paws ceasing into thuds. the woods thicken around them.
leaving only the two of them to catch their breath. it is where raedwulf hangs his large head for several beats, as flanks rise and fall in rapid succession and his breath billows hot into the spring, morning air. looking then to the red-burning man.
suddenly, reaching to clap a paw upon the man's neck, feeling united in their shared survival. þū meahtest sweltan, wīgmann! nevermind that raedwulf could have died, as well.