Duskfire Glacier bran

rolled a 6 for attack & 3 for defense!

The strike lands like thunder. 
Pain lances white-hot along his spine where Blackfell’s teeth graze close, mercifully shy of the bone, but precise enough to remind him who held the upper hand. The shoulder that follows shoves him forward, momentum slipping traitorously beneath his paws. Ice cracks beneath him, sharp and treacherous, and for a heartbeat he falters.
But he does not fall.
Astier regains his footing with the strained grace of a cliff-hung ghost, breath short in his chest, eyes narrowed with cold light. No curse escapes him. No growl of frustration. Only the shallow pull of breath and the twist of his body as he counters, not with the flourish of a victor, but with the force of refusal.
He spins low, aiming a sweep toward Blackfell’s foreleg. It is not elegant, nor particularly likely to land. His form is bruised by the imbalance, his reach short and breath catching; but he still strikes.
Because even shadows push back. And even when overpowered, the Wraith of the Spires never retreats without leaving a mark.