Stone Circle ᚨᚱᛁᛗᛁᛚᛁ

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ᚦ — blood spills.
the twist beneath his limb hits with real weight, a shift that sends his stance off-center, and his paws scrape grit and root beneath them as he adjusts.
he will snuff out this one's fire. it is no longer a game of fun. it is of dominance. exerting strength upon his grounds. he will take this one down with either death or with body. the other northman will sense the change of tone in his fighting stance and the glower in his eyes.
he lunges, again, this time without restraint. jaws open wide, blunt teeth seeking the nape where fur thins and the skin tightens over spine. when his teeth find flesh, he bites down. to dominate. his growl turns guttural, pulsing deep in his chest, a war-drum tempo carried on breath.