Wandering further from the fire as the night progressed, the boy found himself among towering trees, the rich, sweet scent of berries overpowering in the warm evening air. He snuffled about a bit, violet eyes long since adjusted to the lack of light. It was late, late enough that he'd usually be tucked away in their den at home, but this was a party and he never really got tired, no matter how long he spent chasing goats or harassing the cows with Kenway's cattle dogs. Maybe there would be something worth fighting a bit further from the gathering? Something had a distinctly predatory scent about it.

"speech"

Styrmir has been tracking it since he noted the scent a few minutes ago: bear. not a particularly large one, if it’s clumsy, meandering trail is any indication, but it’s enough to send the fur along his back bristling in furious spikes. axe held at the ready, he stalks forward on heavy paws, lips drawn back in a snarl. and then - oh. a child. Styrmir draws himself up short, taking in the boy with a series of rapid blinks - the only real sign of his surprise. but he doesn’t have time to linger on this development; a low growl draws his attention, and he whirls to find an adolescent cub scowling at them from a few paces away. Styrmir adjusts his grip on the weapon, glancing at the kid. well, they’re in it now.

Violet eyes caught sight of the other youngster (still twice is age), before they found the bear. He stared at the wolf, stared at the axe, and stayed perfectly still, head only canting the slightest bit to the right as he bit back on his molars, cogs visibly turning in his head. The other guy probably missed the intense consideration because his attention was caught by something lumbering around just behind him.

Not normally his style, Corsair softens his focus and zeros in on what has the other guy's attention. The fur behind his mane rises up in response, despite the friend shaped nature of the creature, he knows they are not meant to be. The musky scent of predator has his teeth clenched and nostrils flaring, shoulders dropping low as he stalks closer. The growl is a warning to let the bear know it is outnumbered. Even if they aren't fully grown, he isn't either.

"speech"

-predator fight 1/3-

as the cub ambles forward, Styrmir keeps his gaze trained on the cub, unwilling to look away for even a moment - less the consequences be dire. he’s loosely aware of the kid’s position, though whether it’s squaring up to fight or cowering in the shadows, he isn’t sure. the cub dares another step, and Styrmir swings his axe out in a wide arc; a warning strike. the bear stumbles back a half-step but continues to advance, and Styrmir’s moves become increasingly erratic at it advances. he isn’t quiet as trained up as he’d like to be, and the axe is a new weapon. furthermore, it’s a weapon meant for grown adults, and it’s weight is still a little unwieldy in his paws. so as he goes for another swing, it’s perhaps unsurprising that it slides from his sweat-slicked grip and lands a few paces away, kicking up a spray of earth. “kid,” Styrmir calls urgently, eyes fixated on the cub, ”quick, hand me that.”

Just a kid, just a kid, They are both just kids, but he doesn't let his gaze falter from the gangly adolescent cub. It lacks the bulk of a full grown bear, much like Corsair lacks the bulk of a full grown... Whatever he is.

The axe is swung and wheels off to the side, only the movement in his periphery keeps him from stalking into its path. When the other wolf asks him to hand it to him, dexterous paws are put to work the heft of the weapon foreign but he holds it out only long enough for his companion to take up the weight, unsettling collie stare still focused on the bear cub and then he is moving.

Low, savage, intent. Chest low to the ground in a way that feels more natural than breathing, a growl, and a strangled bark, his vocal cords not quite made right for the gesture. He lunges at ankles and underbelly, whatever might drive the predator away. He can feel it in his bones, in his blood. Keep pushing. Make it move.

"speech"

-predator fight 2/3-

Styrmir closes his grip around the handle, nodding to the kid in brief gratitude. “let’s end this.” he’s gotta hand it to his companion, the boy is fearless, rushing in and attack whatever exposed pelt he can find. the cub has become increasingly agitated under the pressure of a joint attack, and with the kid’s help, Styrmir is able to send it stumbling backward, giving ground to the two pups. Styrmir can feel sweat coating his fur in clumps, breaths coming fast, but he doesn’t relent as he swings the axe - and finally, a crunch rents the air, followed by a spray of blood. the cub squeals and cups it’s face; Styrmir has pierced its eye. with this reprieve, he glances at the kid to ensure he’s uninjured.

He is young, but tenacious. The young bear could crush him with a single swipe of his paw, but Corsair refuses to stay still enough to become a target. There is a sound unlike anything Corsair has ever heard before, and the warm shower that sprays down on him is tinged with copper. He relishes it, the blood, the adrenaline as the bear turns and flees... Probably back to its mother.

Its mother.

Oh this could be very, very bad, but he'd bet his life on his mother being the bigger threat of the two if push came to shove.

"Corsair," he introduces himself with a grin to his new friend. "I ah, reckon we should get back to the gathering, wouldn't want mumma bear hunting us down for revenge would we?" His tail waved somewhat nonchalantly at his back, tipped over ears turning to try and catch a warning sign that a potentially bigger bear was inbound.

"speech"

-predator fight 3/3-

the cub retreats, and Styrmir lets his axe slump from his grip, shoulders dropping. he’s exhausted, and splattered in blood, but his muscles pulse with a satisfying ache, the mark of a victory prised from the jaws of danger. Styrmir turns to the boy, head tilting as he receives his name. Corsair. “you were very brave,” he informs the pup, tone approving. “i am Styrmir Trygg.” he wipes the blade of his axe on the grass, then hefts it up to lean against one shoulder. “yes, i suppose you’re right. i don’t much fancy a round two.” a huff of a laugh, the closest he really gets to cracking jokes. ”i’ll see you around, kid.”