A sigh slips from Björn's lips as he stands shoulder to shoulder with Xiomara. After everything that has transpired over the last few days it is nice to just stand quietly with a friend. A eery feeling begins to crawl beneath his smoky hide as the soft rustle of the branches behind him bring with it a all to familiar masculine scent. Instantly his ears disappear into his unkempt mane when his brother manifests himself from the shadows. A growl rumbles from deep within his chest as he spits venom from his lips and then scoffs at them.

Ivar revels in the anger that is spit from the lips of the bald faced mare, and he can not help feel a shiver run the length of his spine. Oh she is fiesty. He thinks darkly to himself and Fenrir who lurks beneath the surface. Her words bring him pleasure as she taunts the beast and a wicked sneer crawls across ashen lips. "The Norns decide my fate and I will not die today," he growls as he narrows his dark eyes upon her. It does not take long for her to throw herself into the air and launch toward him. Muscles bunch beneath his onyx hide as he waits with eager anticipation for their collision. Her strides bring her quickly down on him, but he is ready for her. As her chest collides into his shoulder, he can feel the sickening thud and it drives him into a frenzy. A guttural roar splits from between his parted lips as he feels her beginning to overpower him. Hindquarter muscles bulge and bunch as he shoves his weight against her; the dirt beneath his hooves gives way a few inches before finally he finds a hold in the hardened earth.

A cry falls from his lips as he feels her blunt teeth pinch the hide just above his withers and he snakes his own blunt teeth for her sleek skin. His teeth snap at the delicate skin of her foreleg, he seeks to rip the skin from the muscle and sinew. They struggle against each other until she begins to rise on her hindlegs. Furiously he follows her up into the air where his front legs paw the air. As they stand perilously on their hind legs both look to find the advantage. She in this moment snakes her teeth for his ear as she clamps down on his ear, he jerks his head away. This momentum carries him away from her and back onto his front legs where he pivots his hindquarters toward her and aims his hind hooves toward her tender belly. A grunt erupts from his maw as he kicks with every ounce of his strength straight toward her gut.

The metallic taste of blood trickles into his lip, he ignores the fire that erupts from his ripped and torn ear. As soon as his hooves return to the forest floor, he pivots once again to face his foe. If he has been successful in wounding the bald faced woman he will attack again, using her pause as an excuse to attack again.

Björn's ears remain against his muscular neck as he watches them battle. The ground quivers and shakes beneath his hooves. He waits for his moment to attack his brother; he knows it will present itself soon enough. His muscles bunch beneath his smoky hide and adrenaline courses through his veins. Patience.