There's a hole in my heart that's bleeding
Noah felt Damien slip out from under the press of his weight by yielding at just the right angle. Smart. The snow scattered under the man’s boots as he rolled clear. The bear’s head lifted, paws settling into the snow. Glacier eyes tracked Damien—not with the hungry focus of a predator, but with the sharp interest of a warrior taking measure. Damien’s stance had changed. Lower, coiled. Respectful of the danger before him. The bravado had dropped, and Noah was looking at Damien truly.
He didn't give much time.
It wasn’t a full charge this time. Instead, he shifted weight subtly across his limbs, moving with a speed surprising for something his size. One step, then another, circling. The way a bear did in callenge rather than a hunt—testing the footing, pressing the perimeter.
He struck—not a lunge, but a sudden closing of distance meant to force Damien to commit.
As he suddenly closed the distance his weight shifted to his back legs and he half-reared towards the accepted. The strike came low, not to maim but to throw him, with the precision of someone who had fought too many wars to rely on strength alone.
[3/4]
But its given me strength I needed to carry on
