Dragoncrest Cliffs "With it or on it."

I am confused by the posting order - if it's not my turn just whack me

She fought with all she had (which, mercifully, was not much) as the wolves closed in. They piled in driving thrusts, and Raleska, having never fought for her life before, was quickly becoming overwhelmed.

Eurycrates' undoing was performed right before her eyes. If he had not been a living thing, a packmate she felt an innate bond for, she might have described his death as profanely artistic. His throat was ripped from him and the pure colors from that cataclysm were mindbending: the tender ivory of bone, the mauve gristle of throat, blood splattering in tints of otherworldly black, the red flare of it tinging the cream wolf's face a raw color of fury; the way he crumpled and gurgled and bled in a horrific spray of meat and matter. And then she watched as a blackness pooled about his stilled form, seeping softly into the earth's cold embrace.

All of it was processed in a second by Raleska's wide eyes, and she screamed again with hate and despair.

She was seized by the flank and hauled downward by the bloodspattered wolf, and in seconds was pinned under the jaws of the flame-licked specter that had wounded her neck. As she went down she snapped for anything at all - be it flesh or fur her barracuda teeth would find it. Struggling against the dirt, Raleska made a noise between sorrowful sobs and hateful snarls - her body reverberating as she defiantly met what she was sure would be her end.