Sleeping Dragon Blood in the cut

The raccoon did bolt, though it screeched when it found its path cut off by Portia. By the time it doubled back to dash in a different direction, Wildfire was upon it. Her teeth dug into the smaller animal's thigh, though just as quickly as she attacked, the raccoon counterattacked. Not only did it twist in her grip to slash at her with both fore and hind paws, it also latched onto her muzzle with its sharp little fangs.

The trapper had no choice but to shake her head rapidly, loosening her own grip. The raccoon clung to her like some sort of face-hugger, though only for a split second. It soon let go and, bleeding and screaming, it scrambled away. The Bandrona made no attempt to go after it, instead hanging back to lick the blood welling from the gouges in her snout. She couldn't reach the slashes on her neck, though they stung fiercely.

"Well," she said, wincing in Portia's direction, "if anyone asks, I beat that sucker into a bloody pulp." She laughed dryly, then realized how lucky she was to be in the presence of a caregiver. "Do these look bad?" Wildfire wondered, turning her scratched neck toward her fellow wolf. "Am I gonna live, doc?" she quipped.