Ravensblood Forest shark bait

crowell watches with a twitch of his lip, tail flicking behind him like a slow metronome. the captain takes the bait—good. flame-bright eyes track nox’s crouch, calculating. reading. the bastard was fast when he wanted to be, and crowell ain’t keen on getting tagged just yet.
as the man lunges, teeth gunning for his legs, crowell kicks back in a leap, dirt flying in his wake.
hah! too slow, cap’n. the words come in a cackle, mocking, sharp. yer gonna have t’ try harder than that.
he don’t strike back—yet. instead, he circles wide, steps light, loose. a game now. a test. teeth bared in a grin too wide to be friendly. he’d teach him alright—but only what nox could take.