Too Big For Our Britches

He's bold, unhinged strength. Nothing could hold Víðarr back from really anything, least of all himself. Boldness would always come to him with ease. With incredible ease. Yes it's true, he's brilliant in these moments. Not smart brilliant-- strong brilliant. Radiant. Chosen of the gods, if he wanted to think about it that way. Chosen of the gods. Standing at his full height, Víðarr is nothing short of that. Nothing short of the things that he believes he can be, he believes he will be. With a sickening crack and thud, he slammed the hyena currently within his jaws into the ground. Though it made a strangled cry, it didn't rise again. Víðarr was already on to the next.

The shadow closed the gap between himself and the cat, dragging at the scruff of the one that had fixed its attention on Birna. Yes, he'd grab this one too. Grab it, pull the creature from its feel. Lift, drag, shred-- shred as best he could with his strong jaws. Crushing and chewing, the taste of blood in his mouth. What possessed these creatures to mess with a child of all things? Sickening. They'd catch his wrath, and Víðarr would dispatch them. He's grateful, though, for Birna's help. His jaws around the hyena's neck, Víðarr bites down as hard as he can. His adversary writhed, shook in his jaws. Bastard.

"Víðarr"