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Tove holds the paw still, duel-toned eyes watching the shadow indulge in his thirst for violence. No words are spoken as Viðarr rips vital organs apart. The shadow steps back yanking his head as he goes. Bright crimson arches through the air, the dying roar of a once mighty beast following his blood. A feeble attempt to shake loose Viðarr is given but it is too late. The light fades from the bear’s eyes and Tove releases the death-grip she had on its paw. As the shadow stumbles back, the nebula-clad woman approaches him cautiously, searches his face to see if he is still in a blood rage.

Viðarr looks around, asking if she is okay and Tove cracks a smile as she says, “I’m fine Viðarr. Which is more than I can say for you.” Nose pokes in the direction of his wounded shoulder as she moves toward him. Eying the wound, she nods her head absently, adding, “Well, I don’t think you’ll bleed out on the way back to the wall. Ready to go?” Tove moves to coordinate the dragging of the kills back before slowly leading the shadow home.


"Tove Baade"