Porcupine Ridge The hills of Hollywood on fire

Diane's presence kept the female at bay, baring her teeth at the coyote wench who continuously yipped "bitch" and some other nonsensical insults at her, until the distressed cries of her mate sounded from behind them. She darted suddenly, desperate to come to his aid, thin and slavering jaws aimed for the Ridge's Beta, completely forgetting her own defendant—and Diane was there like lightning, bearing down on the 'yote with a force amassed by speed alone.

The silvery skeleton was bowled over, screaming and tumbling in the snow, finding herself suddenly beneath Diane as the wolf snapped at flesh and fur in a proactive defense of her home and compatriots. The coyote scrambled from under her, unable to be held by jaws unpracticed to harm anything except small prey. And Diane felt herself going easy on the creature too, watching in muted success (instead of chasing her) as the female skittered several yards away. She turned on worried feet and watched with fearful eyes to see the fate of her mate.

Diane took this distance as an opportunity to watch her own pack mate's dealing with the other foreigner. She turned her body sideways, so that she was able to see Farstep and the female coyote with equally small switches of the head in either of their directions. She was a merciful sort, but seeing the Beta's wounded face brought an indifference out of her that she hadn't felt before. She suddenly didn't care whether the helpless and tattered he-'yote died or not.