The remaining Hyrssyden seemed to reconsider their reckless assault, eyeing their fallen packmate with newfound trepidation. One shrewd beast barked a series of guttural commands, clearly urging a more strategic advance.
Slowly, they began circling Tristan in a coordinated fan formation, forcing him to keep turning and seeking an opening. He warily mirrored their movements, preternatural senses on high alert for any subtle sign betraying their next strike vector.
A calculated feint drew his attention - just long enough for another guard to rake vicious talons across his lower back. Searing pain erupted as warm blood soaked his tattered britches.
Whirling with a snarl, he aimed a brutal spinning heel kick at the aggressor's snout, putting all his weight and momentum behind the blow. Bone
