Blackfeather Woods your heart is warm

The crunched snow underfoot and the panicked run are loud enough to warn whatever else scurries about these woods. Aldric, however, manages to startle the wrong sort. His movement jars, halting with his hind-end leaning forth and his front leaning back. Hips posed close towards the ground in a slide on snow. Neck and head arched upwards in a lift.

A young face full of teeth leaps towards him. It is as if time slows with the breath he takes, yet nonetheless, Aldric moves. The ex-prince’s cheek is sliced, a bare miss across the lower portion and lacking a hold. Hips pivot enough for the prince to attempt latching his own hold upon the girl, to wrap around her muzzle and force her down.