Dragoncrest Cliffs "With it or on it."

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She might not laugh, but he does, a short, clipped bark that echoes off the thick trunks of the redwoods. He narrows his eyes at her, shaking his head. You have chosen wrong, he informs her gravely. This could have been easy.
And then she howls, and adrenaline races through his system. Without hesitation, he lunges, seizing her shoulder between his teeth. He tastes blood and is half-mad, suddenly, barrelling into her with all the might he can muster. She will be easy enough to blow past; it is the wolves she has summoned that gives him the slightest trepidation.
Only one of him. . .

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