The feral beast came at her swiftly, eager to impart the wolf law to which she was ignorant. Aupa discovered an instant dislike to the maneuver, but she was ill-equipped to avoid it; his grip was set upon the side of her neck and, with great force, her ruddy self was pushed towards the dirt. A low squeal of surprise erupted from her upon contact. While it was similar to the rough and rogueish manner with which her running mates had tussled, there was a very immediate threat behind the action that could not go unnoticed.
Aupa's body formed a crescent shape around the rugged head of her attacker as she fell, and felt an abrupt shudder of pain as her insubstantial body smacked the earth. Her tail was low then, as was everything else; curling to shelter her belly even as the beast forced its exposure. This law - of fang, of fortitude - had been taught to her in a different manner. That the lead dog would rise and take the helm of their sled, that Man would bestow the utmost respect and responsibility unto such a hound. This was different - this was life or death, and the lesson sank in to her alongside the pain.
The bitch let out a low whine, a pleading note of surrender, and hoped it would be enough to abate further distress.