Dragoncrest Cliffs "With it or on it."

There was so much happening that his animal brain could hardly stand it. He began filtering out all the extraneous stuff, processing only what was directly in front of him and relevant to him. The other wolves to arrive were all just sweeps of colour and snapping jaws to him as his focus narrowed down to Eurycrates and Mallaidh. There was a moment where Eurycrates pushed back and bellowed out to them again, breaking through his reverie, and Ephraim couldn't swallow down the cackle that broke from his bloodied jaws.

What a moron! Completely outnumbered and still thinking he had a chance in hell of getting to the captive. Utterly laughable. They'd really dodged a bullet with this bloke.

But then Eurycrates was running right for him and Ephraim's animal brain took the reins again, leaving his nerves behind. He flung himself low, taking advantage of his smaller size and his lower center of gravity to slip around Eurycrates' jaws—the man cut through the skin on his nape in a painful blow but wouldn't be able to secure a hold as he had hoped to—and then wheeled around and cut up toward his shoulder, snapping savagely just as Mallaidh went for Eurycrates' throat.