Blackfeather Woods most times, a ghost is a wish

the trespasser manages to escape the pierce of his teeth — somehow — despite that she long since should've felt the sting of his bite at least once, if not more. wintersbane tenses, teeth bared, body taunt for another attack even after she recoils from relmyna's attempt to grab her muzzle. wintersbane is vaguely aware of astara's join to the fray and spares her a quick glimpse from the corner of his eye though his attention does not wander from the trespasser for more than a heart's beat of a second.

he watches the trespasser in a mixture of brewing and icy fury and utter bewilderment at her continued audacity. instead of cowing herself into submission like she should have, with the teeth of three wolves at her throat, she sits and speaks as if they are having a pleasant conversation. it is enough to throw him off guard for the slimmest of moments. it stills his instinct to kill her for a few seconds and then it comes back tenfold with the rage of a unfettered titan finally free of it's prison in tartarus.

wintersbane lunges for velvet's shoulder, seeking to tear into the flesh there. lest she moves or fights back his attack should find purchase.

only after that attack does he then attempt to force her into submission beneath him. her fate belongs to the dark priestess to decide. she is audacious and oblivious enough that breaking her, wintersbane thinks cruelly, would be fun. and yet, he is moved to unspeakable fury at her utter lack of respect for borders and the authority of both a wolf ranked in the pack and one of it's leaders as she makes her demands and seeks to make herself comfortable, seemingly unperturbed by his attacks and the threats his every posture makes to her even going so far as to saying as much.

you should be afraid.

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288 words