Redhawk Caldera Gave the Salvation Army girl a squeeze

Instead of the playful banter he had been anticipating — as that was the way things worked back in the Crestwood Clan, for all he could remember — Dingo was met not by words, but by the sharpness of incisors. The gray male sank his teeth in to the boy's unobstructed snout, and in an instant Dingo felt his head (and really his whole upper body) being thrust in to the dirt. It hurt, sure. He squeaked after a delay, simply because his body had never experienced such treatment before, and he was entirely stunned by it. With his chest dragging against the rough-hewn ledge, Dingo became acutely aware of his thumping heart, and the heat of the guard's breath as it passed over his hot blood; the pain was there too of course. He just didn't know what to do about it except continue to grovel.

Dingo's eyes squeezed shut when he was brought down to earth, and now they squinted up at the menacing features of the too-close teeth; he let out a pitiful little whine, or something close to it, and tried to speak around the wolf currently attached to his own face. Mnn - hnng, lemme goh, he pleaded, aligning his raised rear-end with his shoulders by slumping his entire body down upon the stones. His tail tucked unevenly against his belly. Dingo tried tugging back by moving his head, straining his neck, but the tug of his flesh in Shrike's maw only made everything hurt more, so he stopped with a whimper, and sat prone. He couldn't explain if the guy had his head in a -- well, a face lock!