Chimera Fields magister

She had wandered too far; farther than she ever meant to.
The forest had cradled her in its emerald arms, whispering secrets through the rustling leaves, but she had left its embrace without thinking. Drawn forward by the delicate flutter of a butterfly, the shadow girl had chased it through the dappled light, giggling softly at its dance. But now, the butterfly was gone, and so was the safety of home.
A vast field stretched before her; rolling and endless, bathed in the golden glow of spring. The wind hummed through the tall grass, bending it like waves over a restless sea. Rhaena turned in circles, her heart thudding. Where had the trees gone? Where was the path back?
And then: movement. A rustle in the bushes, a shift in the air; a low, guttural sound, deep and throaty. The beast leapt forward, and the world shattered: a cougar.
It stood before her, golden eyes like molten fire, muscles coiled beneath a pelt the color of sunlit stone. It moved with the slow, fluid grace of something that had nothing to fear. But she: she was made of fear. Rhaena froze, breath caught in her throat. Her legs trembled, rooted in place. A tiny growl, barely more than a whimper, slipped from her lips, but it was not enough to frighten the predator. If anything, it only seemed amused.
The cougar growled back, the sound rumbling through the earth beneath her paws. Then it lunged; Rhaena screamed.
Her body moved before her mind could catch up, and suddenly, she was running; legs burning, lungs heaving, the wind slicing against her cheeks. The grass blurred beneath her as she wove desperately through the field, but the beast was faster. She could hear it, feel it, the heavy breath against her nape, the pounding of its paws against the ground.
This was it, wasn’t it?
Would her story end here, swallowed by the teeth of a beast beneath the open sky?
She did not know; did not want to know.
A sob caught in her throat, and for the first time in her young life, she prayed for another to stand between her and death. Where was her viking friend, @Raedwulf? Wouldn’t he protect her? If she called out, would he come?

a scream—sharp, young, and wrong against the stillness of spring. it cuts through the hush of the field like a blade, and raedwulf stops mid-step, hackles rising. breath stills. one ear flicks. then, without pause, he runs.
his legs thunder across the earth, broad frame cleaving through grass and root like a charging boar. the wind howls in his ears, but he listens for her—listens for the beat of her panicked steps. and then, there. a flicker of shadow, stumbling just beyond the ridge. and behind her—
a... cat?!
his eyes narrow, teeth flashing. a deep, rolling snarl tears from his throat as he launches himself forward, lips curled, ears pinned. the cougar turns its head, just enough to register the oncoming force before it is hit. raedwulf slams into it with the full weight of a bear, chest to flank, and they crash into the dirt with a spray of soil and blood.

As if her frantic thoughts had summoned him, the coal-cloaked giant crashed into the fight, a force of nature against the cougar’s fury. Rhaena skidded to a halt, breath hitching as she dared to glance over her shoulder. The world seemed to slow as she caught sight of them locked in a brutal clash, dark fur and tawny muscle twisting together in a violent dance. A drop of blood splattered onto the earth just before her paws.
He came. Raedwulf really came. He heard her, and he came! Yet there was no time to dwell on that; this was survival.
Rhaena’s heart pounded wildly against her ribs. She knew Rædwulf was strong, stronger than any beast she had ever met, but what if? No, no, she wouldn’t let that thought take root. Panic clawed at her chest, but she swallowed it down, forcing her trembling legs to move. Her tail tucked between them, yet she turned to face the cougar, ears pinned, lips parting in what was meant to be a growl; except it came out as a weak, pitiful whimper.
Still, she stood her ground. „Leave my frēond alone!” she barked, voice cracking with fear, her tiny frame quivering like a leaf in the wind. But she couldn’t let that stop her. Not when he was in danger. The shadow girl watched, wide-eyed, as the cougar lashed out, its snarl ripping through the air like a jagged wound. Muscles tensed beneath its tawny pelt, claws flashing, teeth bared in a savage display. The beast was furious, wild; fighting with everything it had.
„Run!” she cried, legs shaking as she stepped back, unsure if she meant it for Raedwulf or for herself.
But she could not - would not - leave him behind.

honey goes next!

the cougar does not scare him. its strength, its fury, even its fangs—none of it. he has seen worse. he has fought worse. but what does bother him, what tears at something deeper, is the sound of rhaena’s voice—shrill, cracking with terror. the way she stands in front of the storm with her tiny chest puffed like she could stop it.
he will not let her die here.
she yells for him to run. he fixes her with a wild stare, jaws opening in a bellowing shout: gā!
raedwulf hurls himself forward, slamming his weight into the cougar’s side. they roll, claws raking. he feels teeth sink into his shoulder, but he does not falter. a roar tears from his throat as he snaps his jaws around the beast’s throat—just shy of the kill.
blood spills into his mouth. his own. the cougar’s.
the cougar escapes death and they are both sent sprawling back in escape. raedwulf staggering himself to his paws again, furs bristling, mouth dripping with darkened blood. seething, panting, circling the cougar as they remain in a standstill for several long pauses. then—they clash once more. raedwulf blind to everything but the thrum of his own blood rushing through his ears.
ignorant to whether or not rhaena remains, and to the approaching @Solharr.

sólhárr arrived in thunder.

his steps tore through snow and pine, ears pinned to the chaos ahead. the sound of snarling—two beasts, not one. the stench of blood thick on the wind. his breath caught in his throat as the scene broke open before him: a female, a slip of a girl, small and screaming; raedwulf, drenched in crimson, locked in mortal combat with a cougar whose spine twisted with rage.

he did not pause.

get her out! came the chieftain’s bellow—harsh, barked like stone thrown against steel. whether it was to a ghost or a god he didn't care. someone, anyone, needed to hear it.

his bulk crashed into the fray like a battering ram, aiming to flank the cougar's blind side. shoulder lowered, teeth bared. the beast would not walk away from this—not with its fangs buried in his wolves.

sólhárr did not fight for bloodlust. he fought because they were his.

because the girl stood like flame in the wind, and raedwulf bled like a soldier of old.

he fought because he had to.
and he would not let death take them. not today.

Another came, tall as an ancient tree, red as the dying sun. Rhaena’s wide eyes followed him as he leaped straight into the chaos, his powerful form a blur of movement.
She had been trembling, heart pounding with terror for Raedwulf’s safety. But now, with this new warrior beside him, a wave of relief loosened the knot in her chest. He spoke in the same strange, guttural tongue as Raedwulf, his voice a force of its own. Were they kin? Friends? She would ask later, if she found the courage.
Her dark body still quivered, her paws barely able to hold her steady, but when the cougar shrieked, high and pained, something shifted. The terror that had gripped her so tightly began to loosen, slipping away like mist in the morning sun. The shadow girl did not understand their words, but she understood this: now was her chance.
Rhaena turned, her legs moving before she could think, carrying her away from the battle and toward the shelter of the trees. Yet she did not run far; she could not. Instead, she tucked herself away within the undergrowth, ears flat, breath shallow, periwinkle gaze fixed upon the fight. She knew how this would end; could almost see it already: the cougar’s hide stretched across a chamber floor, a silent trophy of the warriors who felled it. When the battle will finally end, she would follow in their footsteps; they were her shelter now.