Hot blood steamed on the white snow.
Dyson shook his head, gore spattering off his muzzle in a red rain across the cooling corpse. The stink from the Red Cap's entrails burned his nose. He snorted.
The noise almost killed him.
He flung himself to the side, four feet nimble even over icy ground. The goblin's sword bit into his ribs, a searing line through his fur.
Dyson whipped around inside the big fae's reach and buried his teeth in the soft part of the soldier's groin, tearing at the large artery there.
Hot blood flooded over his white fur.