Hushed Willows yes my husband's gone to golden green to do some business there

Ok, I tried to get everyone's hits in, LMK if this doesn't make sense. I figured we could have him sustain major injury per trespassing rules even though it's not officially claimed, and he'll be attempting to escape this round. In order for him to get away I had to get a bit creative, but feel free to DM me if you have any concerns. FINGERS CROSSED FOR MY STINKY BOY

Riley, for all of his two functioning brain cells, knew his incendiary act would have incendiary consequences. His piss hadn't even cooled in the ground before vengeance came for him.

The first to assail him was the firebrand; first to come, first to strike -- and he was simply too close to evade her teeth, which seized him along the thick of his neck and dug deep. He was pelted in the rear in a horse-style double-barrel kick by another wolf he didn't even see, and then, and then, and then....

Too many teeth at once. Too much pain, too much sensory overload.

Riley's teeth were parted before he was aware of what was happening; he sought to retaliate in full to Orlaith, wrenching himself free as he attempted to rake his hungering fangs first down her seeking face, and then spin --

Only to feel teeth snag him like trailing vines every which way. A youth at his hocks, needling with teeth too young for the taste of blood. The man that had spoken suddenly at his flank, his teeth dragging a fresh line of crimson along his ribs..

Each would have their pound of flesh.

Riley's chances of escaping would be minimal if he kept fighting back. Even he, with a dearth of common sense, knew it was now or never.

Every now and then, there was a glimpse of the thing within Riley that some might call insectile - crocodilian - ophidian. Every now and then, despite the portly construction of his limbs or the lazy way his eye traveled, one might be struck with the impression he was of the same order as the anglerfish or alligator that lurked harmless along the green algae.

That hour came now.

Wherein before Riley had been possessed of an unhurried aspect, he was now actualized as the true competitor his powerful frame often suggested but rarely demonstrated. In a counterstrike to the wolves that crowded the limited real-estate of his flesh, Riley reared upwards in a porpoise-like dive, attempting to rid himself of Memory's hold by surging forward. Each of the wolves gathered like assembly-line workers at his sides might find it challenging then to keep up with him without trampling one another. Riley hadn't planned it, but having one side to the tree while he pissed (leaving his other side plenty vulnerable for attack) had one unintended benefit: it meant each wolf was crowded on top one another to get to him.

With a tremendous heave of his stalwart legs, Riley then dropped his head low like a bullsick ram, plowing forward heedless of any fangs that might thorn his progress. They would nick and rip and tear and cause him great harm, but his sole objective now was simply to escape their toothy reception.

He did not balk for pain nor fear, nor did he turn to issue further rebuke to his tormentors. Blood streaked in furious droplets down his handsome fur, splatters of deep crimson dropping to the parched earth as he went.

There was only one problem -- while Riley fled, he did not flee for home. He ran blind and breathless with the only goal to get away, one ear turned back to the wolves who no doubt would give chase.