Firefly Glen [M] stop, don't save yourself

Osiris's pursuance was side-tracked as Leta crashed into him. He stumbled a few steps, pushed by his own momentum and the force of her weight, before stopping. Before Osiris could turn and face Leta, she buried herself into his chest, and he breathed a sigh of relief. She was okay.  

He had been lost in their short embrace, despite how brief it had been. He came-to as he turned towards the other, a brief flare of his embarrassment heating his cheeks. He shuffled from paw-to-paw, feeling West's eyes in particular. There was little time to be embarrassed, though; there hadn't even been time to address Leta's question. Their opponent announced it's presence, bellowing a battle cry as it charged closer.

There was very little time for Osiris to comprehend what was going on. All that he knew that he had to do everything in his power to stop it, as his instinct commanded. 

Yakwahe was upon the group much sooner than Osiris had anticipated and was upon them with snapping jaws and tearing claws. He was quick to see red, to feel the searing-hot contact of the other's attack. 

Osiris saw red; everything was red—his pelt, the once-pristine snow underfoot. It was already a bloodbath; his outlook was already grim.

He summoned all of his strength and fought back, willing all of his power to meet his opponent with the same ferocity. Snapping and throwing punches wherever he could, Osiris did everything he could to fight back.