[ Almost comically, the wendigo veers to the side, tumbling, still, with a bit of its limber grace. The monster snarls, backing away quickly, very careful not to get too close to the flames. Has it set itself on fire? She leans in a little, eyes searching, feeling the heat from where she stands. Danger. Pain.
She can't lunge into it, not now, but maybe it will still be alive when the flames go out. Salvageable. So, she waits, poised in case it produces more flames, but eager to snap up whatever amount of the prey might be left after. ]
no subject
She can't lunge into it, not now, but maybe it will still be alive when the flames go out. Salvageable. So, she waits, poised in case it produces more flames, but eager to snap up whatever amount of the prey might be left after. ]