Haunted Wood Mama, we all go to hell

The situation had gotten more than out of control. Memory was fighting to drag himself back to conciousness, the smell of blood all he could smell. Part of him told him he should distance himself, let the kid calm down, but he was afraid if he left the kid could kill himself- or someone else. 
His posture was tense as he circled closer, intense eyes watching the pup's every move. In one decisive movement he made to grab the kids scruff, throwing a paw over his back and jerking him roughly backwards. "Stop. Now." 
His voice was rough and commanding, the tone that all but other Alphas typically submit to.