The mist danced low across the frozen lake, curling beneath Vlad's boots as he moved swiftly across the ice, pursued by the silver wolf cloaked in an intense, luminous aura.
The Moon wolf only grew more ferocious after its second puppet fell, but the rising intensity of the battle only served to excite Vlad.
Because he could feel his mind slowly growing accustomed to this foreign experience.
The noise of the world had faded away. The howl of the wind, the distant murmur of watchers outside the mist, even the ice groaning underfoot, all of it was slowly fading away.
The mental clarity Vlad felt was familiar to him, in his past life this clear state was second nature but to the current him this was a new feeling, a new state his mind was adjusting to.
The Moon Wolf moved, its muscles tensing, and in that moment Vlad felt it, not as just instinct, but as a vision. A flicker, ghostly and raw came to his mind, showing him how the beast would leap, claws out, fangs aiming low.
