Haunted Wood it's a melody; a battle cry; a symphony

there is someone else beside her now; she turns with fangs bared to meet this new threat. but the face is half-familiar, it is wolf, and her attention returns just as quickly to the dying coyote. she dodges a desperate snap, tearing at the creature's muzzle as it withdraws. the woman is giving advice, now, and she pauses just long enough to shoot her a gimlet stare that proves clearly just how much she cares about dying just then. 

for a moment longer they squabble, and then she surges up. the coyote senses her target, the shift in energy, and she is met with fangs. they clash a long moment longer, and then she feels fur then flesh then blood betwixt her fangs and her strike has landed true. she whips her head left and right, tearing, and feels something give. it's gory and messy and she burns with the pain of half a dozen new wounds and old ones too, but for a moment she feels alive. 

at some point the coyote becomes a deadweight and she lowers herself to the earth, the creature falling beside her. her jaws are still buried, possessive, and it is only the presence of the older woman that has her carefully dislodge herself from the creature, coat matted in blood and dirt, gaze gimlet.