Wapun Meadow the nasty words of a hateful song

donovan purled in his throat; merrick responded, and only chuckled when the larger jaws plucked at his dark plume. for a moment he did not respond, gathering himself; a breath, and he had whirled toward the grinning beast.
they were not far apart; his own teeth raked teasingly through the odd-marked fur of the saint-wolf's shoulder, before he sprang back and grinned with a brash light toward donovan. yet this was not a dance of blood; he could see nothing in his opponent that wished it to be so, and circled to the right with a lolling tongue, single eye locked onto the rolling musculature of the wolf before him.