Blackfoot Forest I know I'm a wolf and I've been known to bite

Bitter words. Spat out by bitter men. This is what the beast heard as he sat listening, his ears perked in interest, his tail twitching in almost amusement. He could feel the hate, palpable in the air. Oh, the fun he could have, if it were not for the fight that was about to occur. As they threw useless words back and forth, he sat as a stone, watching, gathering information he could use later. Leave now. The first words out of this black wolf's maw said it all. His desire to fight was not there. Weakness. The anticipation, the longing for a fight made them stronger. For in the urge to fight, they were more willing to draw blood, to maim. To kill.
Unconsciously, he had turned towards the young one as he spoke, an out of place thoughtful look on his face and an odd smile playing at his lips. What the reason was, he would never know. The man that claimed Onyx spoke, making his lips curled amusedly. As the man launched himself, the beast tensed his muscles, yet the male beside him spat out words and sprang forward, seemingly wanting the pleasure of fighting his own flesh and blood. Blood against blood. So intriguing to the snake he did not hear the words of the fourth, nor see his body lunging forward. But his incisors were a different matter, a surprised whine that turned into a growl, his haunches bleeding as the pale man tore a chunk out. Whipping around, his hackles rose high, icy coldness in his eyes. A snarl erupting from his lips, his legs shot his heavy body off the ground, teeth gnashing at the man who had dared draw his blood.