He tackles the fox to the ground. Calling forth all his strength. Memories jar his ferocity, adrenaline pumps his blood. The knife, the gun become tangled. Both men no longer armed. His fury is generated by his blood.
Seeing the bastard’s face. Seeing his ugly sneer. Seeing the dream of freedom. No longer seeing mistakes he had made.
Meredith begins to tear at the stitching. But she notices nothing. Blackness of night surrounds the two. She feels the warmth of blood spill across her face. Oleg’s rage explodes upon hearing his father’s pain.
Holding on to his head, foreheads meet stunning them.
The fox now dead. Oleg claims his head.
The sunlight peeks fraying the clouds. Oleg covers the corpse. His muse still shaking he carries her from the snow.