Kintla Flatlands A bit risqué.

Atticus was no Spartan warrior, but he was half-decent when push came to shove and it was time to put foot to ass for his pack. This wolf wasn't only a near-equal in appearance, but in fighting skill and technique as well. They were about as evenly matched as Atticus had ever found himself against another adversary before (though…he'd never admit that it was kind of nice, because he was usually the one getting his ass kicked by someone bigger and badder than him). He was tiring, though, and he wasn't enjoying this encounter. He just wanted this asshole to go home already. Spying a brief opening, he darted toward the opposing wolf's front leg, aiming to maim his ankle with angry teeth.