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Nothing comes between the shadow and what's his. Nothing comes between the shadow and his family. He's possessive, but those are issues that will be explored in time. Possessive in that something has come between him and what he holds dear. Hell hath no fury like that which Viðarr unleashes in the direction of the bear. A snarl ripped through his chest, menacing. A switch has turned, and there is nothing that can or will hold him back. No, he will not be tamed. He will not be chained. Ceaseless, relentless, and dangerous.

The bear roared, and dully Viðarr becomes aware that Tove has joined him upon the bear. Danger. There was danger here, and she'd gone towards it instead of away. Excellent. Excellent, and still, he needs to protect her. Viðarr catches the bear's other paw across the shoulder as it tries to pry him away. That was the thing, wasn't it? Viðarr wasn't going to let go. Each of the dogs had taken one of the predator's back legs, and they were clinging to him, impeding his movements. Though the grizzly kicked out, he couldn't shake either one loose. He wouldn't shake either loose, as they hung on like it was their only job, only goal.

Viðarr burned brightly. Rage lived inside his chest, a fire that was only stoked as she felt the flesh on his shoulder laid open by a swipe of the unattended paw. He doesn't care. Viðarr doesn't give a singular, godforsaken fuck. Relentless. At the bear's throat he grabbed and clung, ripping with sharp, glimmering teeth. It would die. It would die by his hand, come hell or high water. The shadow wasn't letting go. Not for anything.

"Viðarr"