Gyrfalcon's Keep break you down and swallow you up

Szymon admired the other wolf’s easy confidence with a chuckle that hummed deep within his breast before spilling over into a low rumble. “S-S-Szymon C-Cairn,” he relented in a quiet undertone, angling himself to take a closer vantage point as Charon worked his way in a wider circle. Satisfied that the goats’ escape route was safely blocked, Szymon crouched in readiness, considering his options. The horns made things a bit dicey, but perhaps the combination of the sinking sand and some well-placed wounds, they could take at least one of them. Greedy, Szymon shot a glance toward Charon upon seeing that one ram was larger, the rack of horns just slightly more impressive. If they were going to get just one of the two, it had to be that one. With a quirk of his scarred muzzle and a decisive glint of his golden eyes, Szymon intoned quietly, “B-B-Bigger one,” — for surely, the pack wolf would have more mouths to feed than Szymon did. Incentive was everything.