Make Me A Poster Of An Old Rodeo [Björn]

Björn⁢ had haunted the battlefield, lurking, looking for an excuse to rid himself of the aggression that burned so brightly in his chest. An outlet. The boy needs an outlet, needs something that will allow him to let loose. Fights. Let him fight, let him bleed, let him carry on. Let him carry on until there's nothing left, and the beast is sated once more.

A call comes from the other side of the small rise, though it sounds far different than he's accustomed to. Bristling, Björn⁢ breaks into a lope, closing the distance with his keen, icy gaze. Grey eyes settling on the source, curiosity blooming in his system. "You are... not a wolf." Brow furrowing, as he sets up on the defensive anyway. A fight is a fight, and this would be an adversary stronger than the ragtag coyotes, anyway. "Bring it on, then."

"Björn"