Overture Downs make your peace

There is silence. An ease of tension akin to steam releasing outward a machine. Ghost surrenders, yet does not fall. Victory tastes like blood and bile; of frost and cedar trees. The Wayfarer relaxes his limb, and it is then that Ghost strikes. A trickster criminal that lights the smoking flame.

He quakes.

Twisting from his jaws despite the Wayfarer's urge to clench down, the beast at least manages to keep with the momentum, a messy and tangled dance filled with tripped limbs and a manic smirk. Champagne eyes burn bright.

In the end, the Wayfarer manages to halt the rotation, freezing Ghost on the back roll and forcing the slender coywolf to stare up and down the barrel of a gun, or perhaps the reaper's scythe stolen from dear dad. This time he won't fall for any tricks. He looms over, tail high.