A harsh cough jumped from Kershov’s mouth as he hit the ice-hard ground, jostling his shoulders and wincing at the impact as it pounded his rib cage. Thankfully, that was the only new ache he felt—no fiery slice of cat-claws tearing through his pelt or the merciless grip of teeth in his scruff. Alert ears picked up an abrupt crescendo of banshee shrieks and canine snarls. He used his uninjured paws to scrabble back and distanced himself from the now ferociously bucking female cougar—and then his lifted his gaze to see Halina riding their enemy with admirable, albeit reckless, fearlessness. “KILL HER, HALINA!” the Alpha exhorted. His hackles spiked like ivory nails along his spine. In his excitement he attempted to lurch back to his feet—swearing loudly when his broken bones refused to support his limb—and unleashed a howl to signal that the fight was reaching its close. It was time for his pack to deliver the murderous blow. They could not afford to retreat. Victory was so close he could practically taste it.

When Azula rushed forward to land a critical hit, Kershov growled like a demon and was quick to follow up. He positioned himself on the cougaress’s other side, jaws unhinged and ready for her to recoil right into range as she tried to pull free of the she-wolf’s fangs. If the cat stumbled close enough—for Kershov still didn’t want to risk anything to drastic with his wounded limb—the Ice King would slam his daggers into the other shoulder, hopefully holding her in place for Azula and Halina to finish her off. The feline monsters were at their most dangerous now, despite their grievous injuries. An animal close to death will fight more unpredictably and savagely than any other; no one could afford to be too cocky.

If the cougar swerved away from Kershov’s awaiting maw, the alabaster gangster would swerve to mirror her motions, attempting to grip anything he could: a paw as it flailed before his muzzle, the side of her neck, any scrap of fur. If Halina managed to wrestle cougar to the earth Ker would be prepared to dive for their opponent’s throat. He knew full well the peril of throwing himself at a puma mindless with fear and fury. If she latched onto him, it would take seconds for her to tear him apart. But the dragga had complete faith in his brave, experienced soldiers, and he had never been a commander that was happy giving orders from the rear. Besides, if they failed, who was to say another enemy wouldn’t step in to finish them off? This had to be a win for them. There were no other options.