Duskfire Glacier blood of my blood

blackfell growls, low and deep, as her paws shove into his chest. his body shifts under the force—off-balance, but not undone.
smarter? he huffs, sharp, dry. then why are you under me, sister?
his weight lifts, but only to shift. he rolls with her momentum instead of resisting it, letting her movement carry him—then hooks a foreleg tight around her shoulder, dragging her down with him.
snow sprays, cold bites, but his grip is iron.
you always forget—i learn. his breath fans against her ear, hot and clipped. try again.