Too Big For Our Britches

The hyenas fell, one by one, scattered around their feet. Víðarr didn't have an issue working in tandem with the cat-- they'd done it before, and he wouldn't be surprised if they did it again. In his clutches, the hyena twisted and writhed, cried out. The thing would fight back with all the force it could muster, but it was no match for Víðarr. As this one stilled, the shadow tossed it to the ground. Discarded, a ragdoll. Crumpled. Gods... how many were left? One final hyena had lunged for his hind leg, teeth gnashing. The shadow smirked, head tossing-- did it really think that would work? It was already banged up, and Víðarr made quick work of that too. Quick work of the lot of them. As the final creature staggered away without so much as a backwards glance, the shadow is finally able to take a moment to catch his breath. Shit that had been a lot. More than he bargained for. Imagine, these fuckers going after a child of all things.

"You are... okay?" He glanced to the pup beneath the bush, and to the cat as well. Right. Best to check in, after all.

"Víðarr"