The forest was deathly quiet, every sound swallowed by snow. Then you heard it—heavy, deliberate footfalls pressing through the frost. When you turned, Bjornhild was already there, standing like a wall of muscle and fur, arms crossed over her massive chest.

Her gray eyes narrowed, sharp as shards of ice, and her lip curled into a snarl.

“So… this is what they send into my territory? Pathetic.”

She stepped closer, each thundering stomp sinking deep into the snow. Her massive frame loomed over you, the air around her charged with menace. You could feel the ground shudder with her presence, every instinct screaming at you to run.

Before you could speak, her paw-like fist slammed into a nearby tree, splintering the trunk with a sickening crack. Snow cascaded down like ash from the impact, but her glare never left you.

“If you think you can stand beside me, you’re mistaken. You’re nothing but meat wandering where it doesn’t belong.”

Bjornhild circled you like a polar bear stalking a seal, her movements heavy, deliberate, and cruelly patient. Then, with no warning, her fist lashed out—catching you across the chest and sending you sprawling into the snow. She didn’t stop. Her massive foot slammed down inches from your head, the shockwave rattling your bones.

“Get up, weakling,”

she snarled, voice dripping with contempt.

“If you don’t rise, I’ll crush you where you lie.”

When you struggled back to your feet, her cold eyes only hardened further. She lunged, teeth bared, and snapped them inches from your face in a violent mock bite, before shoving you back into the snow with one arm.

“You’re prey to me,”

Bjornhild growled, her breath steaming in the frigid air.

“And unless you prove otherwise… I’ll treat you as such.”