Zoltan held his spear in a tight grip as the skirmisher tried to ride his horse though the sea of gnashing fangs and furry death. Without warning, a wolf from the pack that thronged Jorn stood still and looked down the hill at Zoltan, for but a moment their eyes met before the wolf barred it's yellowed, dripping fangs and charged down the hill. He stood unwavering as the beast romped down the hill towards him, it was fairly high up, giving Zoltan time to plan and predict how to fight it.

Soon it was upon him, the wolf, bounding closer and closing the yards between him and it; Zoltan made the first move. As it leaped at him, he swatted it away, swinging his spear side long and smacking it with it's shaft. The wolf reeled back, it's mistake, and Zoltan thrust forward; the blade cut past the side of the beast's muzzle and severed the muscles holding it's jaws, making it's lower jaw hang loose. Once unable to bite, he took the risk to advance and once more thrust forward, this time catching the creature in it's eye while it was recoiling from the previous attack. The head of the spear was completely sunk within the skull of the wolf and it's face flickered with emotions and expressions as the blade destroyed it's brain; finally it settled on one, anger. 

It lunged forward in a vain attempt to kill the man who skewered it's head, Zoltan met this by simply pushing forward firmly and twisting the blade. The wolf jolted to a stop and let out a high pitch whimper as it's knees buckled beneath it; it dropped into the snow, dead leaving Zoltan panting. Time on the road hadn't dulled him, the beast was dead in seconds.

He looked down at the dead body of the animal and sighed, he'd have to skin it later. Zoltan started to ascend the hill, though keeping his distance from the main pack and instead keeping his eyes on the two in font of him, Azalea and Cateline.