She plants her boots until she’s rooted, and ready to engage.
The axe on her shoulder wielded by solid hands — a resolve to match.
A demon adversary with Goosander fangs enters the fray.
With mottled purple flesh, like Gloxinia Empresses, poised to attack.
A towering wolf. His fur, and the fog, are the same graphite gray.
Two legged, and familiar — body knotted like a lumberjack’s.
The wolf seeks her eyes where unspoken words are exchanged.
When the demon shrieks with violent rage, her wolf bellows back.
A third part of the earlier prompts, memory, and sublime.