He swiftly cut the leg off, before driving his sword through the soft underside of its iron-like jaw.
"Now you see," he said. It wasn't a question, it was a pronouncement. He could feel the fear emanating from them as thickly as he needed to be. He reached forward with a divine hand, and twirled the fog until it was bound in his hand like a slaver's rope. "Flee this place," he told them. "And ensure that none of your kind set foot here for the rest of the day."
He didn't know if they would carry out the second part of that order, but they certainly carried out the first part with a shocking willingness. They darted back into the trees like bullets, leaving messy marks through the snow behind them.
Sure that they were gone, Oliver began to make his own way away. He chose the cleaner of the two kills and began to drag it away, back to the trail that led him there.
