Silence still hung heavy over the ruined street, mingled with the smell of smoke and hot iron, when Strax finally looked up at the woman before him. The dead bear lay like a war offering at his feet, and the axe in his hand seemed a natural extension of his body—heavy, brutal, but wielded with a lethal precision that left no doubt as to its strength.
He inclined his head slightly, the golden glow of his eyes reflecting the fresh blood on the blade.
"It was a fine hunt." Strax's deep voice echoed through the street, calm, almost respectful. "Despite the size of the axe, the cut was precise. Surgical. The bear didn't suffer."
The woman kept her eyes fixed on him, the weight of the silence between them stronger than any open threat. Her jaw worked, tense, as if the words were an unwanted distraction. Still, she answered coldly:
"Who are you, stranger?"
