Bearclaw Valley some kind of nature, some kind of soul

The tender flesh between his teeth is an odd, unfamilar feeling, made worse when it is forcefully ripped from the base. It disgusts him at first; the blood pouring from where his opponent's ear was supposed to be, the fact that it was still dangling out of his mouth. But seeing the pawn wounded gives him a surge of pride and determination.

The inkling did not give him time to breathe. It's a miracle Orochi was able to yank his muzzle away just in time, but luck wouldn't be on his side forever. Teeth sank into his face, dangerously close to his eye. The dragon cried out. He had panicked, he was hurting, he was tired and angry. Swiftly, foolishly, he pulled back, freeing himself but leaving a gaping wound beneath his eye in the process.

Orochi was tiring more quickly then he hoped he would. In a last ditch effort to subdue the enemy, he catapulted himself forward. Perhaps his weight would knock the other boy down. He could hold him underneath his paws, or better yet between his jaws.