Bramblepoint I think you pissed off my sandwich.

The tall wolf panted heavily, unable to feel how hard his heart and lungs were working to propel him on; and had he been an older wolf, he wouldn't have been able to keep up this momentum for much longer without collapsing. As things were, he could maintain this for at least another half hour if he had to, but this strange event seemed to be winding down— and with no way of knowing he'd likely never see an opportunity like this again, Kavos began to coil his excitement back into its box.

From the corner of his eye he saw her muzzle shift just slightly in his direction, and he turned his head fully to look at her, knowing that she was deferring to him for their next move, without her having to say it. His tail wagged, and his body beckoned her as he began to circle around to keep the best vantage he could of the herbivore's wounded neck. His long stride changed when he began to aim, his body becoming more feline as he prowled forward, and sought to end the tortured creature's life by sinking his teeth into its throat again.

His aim was true, and easy this time, his sharp mouth finding quick purchase on tender-red flesh, creating a faster spill and an immediate weakening of the dead-eyed ungulate, who collapsed. Kavos kept hold, suddenly realizing that he was in some sort of pseudo "tug of war" with the still living, still trapped buck. He had no fight left in him except the will to flee, but he could not escape with a dead brethren and a large wolf still clinging to his antlers when he was already beyond spent. Something had to give— but would it be antlers or neck... and would it be his oppenent's, or his?

Omg your idea is suddenly very likely! It's almost like--!