Dragoncrest Cliffs around here, it's just another saturday night.

The stranger fell beneath him and began to thrash wildly. Artaax felt his sides and stomach pummeled by flailing limbs and scrabbling nails, but it did nothing to make him loosen his hold. He locked his jaws stubbornly onto the wolf's flesh, feeling hot blood pour across his tongue as his opponent's thrashing aided in deepening the wounds. His eyes blazed as a kick to his stomach pushed him slightly off balance, but just then he saw the opening out of the corner of his eye.

Reality seemed to shift for a flash of a second as his blazing eyes locked onto his target. In that moment, he didn't see the exposed throat of the angry, sickly wolf beneath him, but that of a tiny, red fox kit. Nomi's calm command seemed to resonate in his ears, and Artaax released his hold finally, only to then drive his teeth straight into the dark wolf's throat.