Duskfire Glacier burn

the bark split beneath his teeth.
again.
faust’s jaws clamped down, splinters cracking against his gums as he drove his weight forward, thick neck muscles bunching with the motion. he held it—then released. stepped back. breathed.
blood marked his lip where a tooth had caught wrong. he didn’t wipe it.
the tree stood marred before him, its trunk gouged by layered bites—some shallow, some deep. all intense.
a low growl rumbled in his chest as he circled again, jaws parting.
then—snap.
the frost answered in silence.