[ his shooting lesson could be better, to be sure. but there isn't time for anything else but to dive right in. a bit of practical experience on the job, if the job is survival. it's the ravkan way.

his revolver kicks in her hand when she fires, something nikolai is expecting but she likely is not, so he holds her grip steady, breathing in the scent of blood and whiskey as a pained howl comes from below, one of the wolves crumpling to the snow. red blooms from the wound in its flank, a surprisingly clean but not fatal wound.

this is the part he would have liked to shield her from. he would have liked to shield her from all of this, really. he already has blood on his hands, more of it that he could ever wash clean, so to dirty hers feels... well, it isn't the way he wished for things to go. ]

I've never seen wolves like these before. [ as if they've been infected or possessed by something darker, something spurring them to rage and violence. it's achingly familiar, a painful squeeze in his chest. ] We can't know if they're acting on their own will or not. If it was me, I would want someone to put me down.

[ he shakes his head, pulling a steely smile out of nowhere. ] Good shot. While it's down, try for the head. Or close to the heart. There's no reason to let it suffer.

[ has she ever killed anything before? she doesn't exactly look like the murdering type, but he's been wrong before. on rare occasion. ]