Maybe I should cry for help

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.”