Redhawk Caldera It's going to be a bumpy night

His ears flattened against the sound of her yipping as she doubled her efforts to free herself. Spurred by the gaping yawn her father bared, indicating he was still asleep, the coyote growled and hauled her some distance again. His teeth cut into her scruff as she writhed in his grasp. Drool soaked her fur, the instinct of the opportunist wakening to the taste of blood, but he was in command of his instincts and his game was not to eat the child.

Or... wife? His ear flicked to the sound of snarling, his one open eye beholding the sight of the black male baring down on him. Time was up. Without flinching, or missing a beat, he let go of the pup and darted off into the brush. He spared not a glance back as he ran, weaving among trees and slipping into brush, using every curve of the land to hide himself and lose the wolf.