Bearclaw Valley spirits of the dead

at least he postures, rather than cowering. that's a start. but he does not strike, and Avicus eyes him narrowly, waiting. a heartbeat—then—well?

to hell with him.

his hesitation had better be used for strategizing, for she springs forward (she has to move; her coiled muscles demand it). she stops just short of his body and aims her teeth at the scruff of his neck, all the while raising her foreleg to hook 'round his shoulders and pull him down.

their sizes are still comparable enough that at least, if she can take him off-guard, her tactics will work. but she braces herself for the possibility of hitting snow and sodden dirt.