He lurks silently upon the river banks as he often does for the majority of his time. The region becoming his place of calling since his return to Moladion. But it is not always that he is met with peace here as it seems the Iromanian border draws in what crazies there are from the outside.

Winter's deathly silence is broken by voracious snarls and howls of pain just down the river, causing him to turn his broad skull in barely noticeable interest toward the skirmish. It is of no concern to him, that is, until he locks onto a rather familiar figure dashing away from two paler strangers, one of charcoal and gold that brightens one section of his memory for a moment. Fjallraven. The young girl of which had been sacrificed to him by her own mother - yes, the useless child. But even dear mom couldn't keep her word and within the time of one night the girl had been swept away from his clutches just as quickly as she had arrived. If he ever found that bitch again he would surely tear her a new one.

Even now as a singular white eye stares lazily upon the scene he feels a sense of duty arise within him. It seems that mother has abandoned all hope again with the child and fate is taking its course. Not if Malacath were to intervene, it would not. He rises from his reclined position and stretches momentarily before jogging south down the banks and closer to the clusterfuck of fur and blood. Another male of black, red, and white appears from the depths to seek vengeance upon Reaver and it is when the fleeing Fjallraven and the white bitch near to him that he chooses to increase his speed. Well-defined, muscular pillars move him forward at an easy run until he is meeting with the pair just as Jaidah and Reaver attempt one final attack upon the gold-trimmed girl.

The white femme raises upward and Malacath comes swinging inward from the right, ducking his skull low and grasping Fjallraven by the scruff to carry her a short distance from the pursuing female. His grip is steadfast and he cares not if it is uncomfortable in any manner while his forelegs kick at her hind pair and her haunches before he drops her within a thick cluster of bushes. Immediately he turns to face the banks with ears pinned to his head and lips pulled upward in a silent threat. None shall dare to lay another claw nor fang upon his possessions. None shall defy a demon of Hell.