Hangry Hangry Hippos

The sound of hippos is distinctive and unsettling. Björn⁢'s grip on his whip is careful, shifting, allowing the weight to swivel comfortably in his grasp. Weapons like this have a learning curve, something he'd come face to face with on the battlefield. Better to take a step back, to smack on something a little less intelligent, while he sorted it out.

Drawing to the alarm calls of the hippos, his gaze falls on a familiar enough red and pale girl. Brows lifting, taking in her predicament. Without a second thought, Björn⁢ comes in hot. Swinging recklessly at the not-log, the clink of the hammer whip joining the noise. "Watch yourself," not like he was going to hit her intentionally, it's just a bit unwieldy.

"Björn"