Animus comes to a sudden halt, sniffing gingerly at a wire mere inches in front of his nose. A short whuff sends spittle flying past the near-invisible strand.
A moment's temptation to charge headlong through the room. A quick end; wouldn't it simplify matters? No more pining over lost love, or vengeance denied?
Perhaps he would have given in, if his lover's soul hadn't been on the line.
The wolf picks his way through the veritable minefield, and if signs of recklessness bleed through his rapid contortions, the effect is more than made up for by long-cultivated agility and proprioception.
breezing through*
A short pause as he focuses on the sense of Triquetra's soul, before he pads along the closest available route toward her location.
*Physical attributes taken from here.