Dragoncrest Cliffs "With it or on it."

He tasted blood on his lips but it wasn't from his own attack; Mallaidh slashed through Eurycrates' throat like tissue, raining the intruder's blood on both of them, while Ephraim's teeth struck the man's shoulder. He did little more than punch through the superficial skin with his incisors before he had to peel away and part from the wolf whose weight bore down suddenly as life left him. It happened much faster than Ephraim expected it to and he was left breathing hard and swallowing a sudden rush of bile. Fear clenched every muscle in his body and he abruptly felt like retching from the stench of blood bathing him. He fought with himself for control while he watched the others grapple with a reedy youth no older than he or Tux.

He didn't recognize her. She was just another enemy violating their claim and she was about to die just like her idiot commander had. And for right now, Ephraim couldn't watch it. He was still just a kid himself and this was more than he'd bargained for; all the foolish bravado and training in the world couldn't prepare anyone for watching another die in front of them. It would haunt him, and he didn't want some other kid's blood on his conscience right then.

The ringing in his ears began to fade and a sense of urgency rose in its place. He'd heard Heda's howl as well, but it hadn't occurred to his conscious mind until that moment. When Eurycrates was diving for him, his brain had filtered Antumbra's summons to a place where it wouldn't distract him in the moment, but now it seemed of utmost importance. Mallaidh and Blixen were more than capable of taking down Raleska, especially if Opalia stayed with them for back up, and he was Heda's second. She had summoned the whole pack back. She needed him more than they did. So with one last glance at his fighting comrades, Ephraim yipped out a warning and then turned and galloped away, utilizing all the speed he could muster through the racking pain of his injury to return to Hougeda by the lake.