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Gjalla · 5/16/2026, 8:38 AM

[Image: de30rbh-3b0683a6-441b-43e3-821f-97de2c91...kDaKDynxTk]

he rebounds almost as quickly as he fell, snow spraying from under his paws. pride lifts his hackles higher than anger ever could, and beneath it is a stubborn spark struck by failure, the desperate need to do better on the next pass.

this time he rises instead of driving straight through, forelimbs striking for her face and chest. claws rake air where her muzzle had been a heartbeat earlier; gjalla jerks her head aside, one set of nails grazing the dense fur over her clavicle and pulling a shallow sting across the skin beneath. her lip curls. better.

she surges upward to meet him, one foreleg hooking behind his nearest wrist as his hind paws scramble for purchase. at the same time, she drives her chest into his centerline and twists. the motion is compact, brutal in its simplicity.

his balance, already compromised by the rear, is taken from him. gjalla bears down as he drops, teeth flashing to seize the loose fur at the side of his neck—not enough to puncture deeply, but enough to pin, reminding him exactly of how exposed he is. her weight presses through him, grinding snow beneath their bodies. her breath fans hot against his ear.

you are not thinking, she tells him, that is why you are losing. awareness of oneself and one's opponent was paramount in all conflicts. attention missing is an advantage lost. she holds the natural advantage of experience, but all he must do to counter it is find her weak points. even gjalla could not be so impervious.

her jaws loosen and she releases him at once, stepping back to grant him room to reset. again she lowers her stance, periwinkle eyes fixed on his face, bright as ice. again—with intention this time, yes?

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