[ Erik’s forehead crinkles, disbelief bunched in dense between his brows. To argue he’d have to acknowledge that he felt the claws piercing in, hooking under the skin into muscle --
He looks to her side to check for empirical evidence to the contrary there, only to look back up to her face a slow beat later. Realization sets in flat behind his good eye, doubt bled out into something warier. Made.
There’s a decisive moment where his knife drips and he doesn’t say anything. ]
no subject
He looks to her side to check for empirical evidence to the contrary there, only to look back up to her face a slow beat later. Realization sets in flat behind his good eye, doubt bled out into something warier. Made.
There’s a decisive moment where his knife drips and he doesn’t say anything. ]
We should get back to camp.
[ He breaks his own silence. ]
They may be under attack.