Wapun Meadow The path ahead

With his eyes only for the rabbit, the other wolf is much more focus on him. He’s able to get past the other enough that he thinks he’s gotten all the way, jaws open as he lowers to scoop but his teeth clamp on nothing as a painful force pulls him back. He staggers on his front legs, feeling the bite of fangs pierce the sensitive skin around the inside of his thigh, and pressure from the opposite side.          His front legs stiffen in place and he reels around like a fish pulled out of water and snaps his teeth back at the assailant’s face.
 
It is then he does not see the wolf that matches in color but the cougar that gripped its plaything several months ago. His heart seizes up and his breath lodges in his throat, as he snaps at whatever he can get—if anything—before he refocuses on getting out of the other’s grip.