Blackfeather Woods damn the torpedoes!

She seized flesh in her teeth and tasted, suddenly, blood; claws raked at her but to no avail. She had a stronger grip, and before long, the large raccoon was scrabbling in an attempt to retreat from the assault. Rowan's cry had Maegi's head turning, swiftly, only to see that Moonshadow had arrived and was wrenching the raccoon from her son. Good.

Once the biggest of the band was in flight, Maegi moved on to the next closest animal, who seemed to be mostly ignorant of the tumult and still was rifling about in a cache. With a snarl, she bore down on it, pinning it against the tree trunk and finding its nape between her teeth.

Something overcame her—the same kind of fury she'd felt before, when things had gone south. All reason vanished, replaced by a primal urge to survive, to thrive, to feast. Like a vice, her jaws grew tighter, tighter, tighter, tighter. . .

snap — and the raccoon went suddenly limp in her grasp.

Without another thought, Maegi flung it to the ground and returned to the fray, beginning to nip at the heels of the retreating pests. The wolves would claim victory this day.