Sleeping Dragon If you trust your rebel heart, ride it into battle

The sneeze could have spoiled the hunt. But on the contrary, it caused the porcupine to startle and spin, its quills still shivering menacingly as it pivoted on a stumpy little leg. It seemed to catch itself mid-revolution and began to swing back toward Wildfire but the experienced trapper had already spotted the narrow window of opportunity. She was right there, belly slung low and a nimble leg striking out to sweep the overgrown rodent's feet from beneath it. With a frightened squeal, the porcupine was flipped onto its side.

Its vulnerable underside wasn't totally exposed but it was enough for Wildfire. She snapped her fangs, teeth slicing deep into the exposed flesh before she abruptly leaped backward to avoid any prickly retaliation. She was rewarded with another cry, one of pain, as she licked blood from her muzzle and retreated several feet. She was almost positive it was a killing blow but it would take a while for the porcupine to bleed out completely.

For a moment, she watched it attempting to curl in on itself to protect its slashed belly, though the muscles were torn and it couldn't quite manage. She then remembered what had prompted her ability to strike. Wildfire's amber eyes lifted from the dying animal to the wolf plopped on her haunches among the geysers. Her lips twitched into a playful smirk. Rosalyn? she guessed silently, not entirely certain.

"Hey!" she called. "Thanks for the assist!" She waved her black tail. "I'd be happy to share. It's the least I can do. Although this may take a while," she noted, voice lowering as the porcupine moaned and writhed weakly on the ground before her.