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

The white wolf flew out of the way with an agility he had never possessed. Three little insects now lay about, their lives ended with what seemed a handful of swooping gestures in the span of minutes. The breath of the monster remained heavy and looming. The screaming and shouting of the little white one rattled in a mind focused on exactly one goal. As she spoke, Yakwahe released but two foul words in her own language: Wretched insects.

The little bitch was too fast for him. A second swing of his paw found him stumbling as she latched onto an open wound on his neck. She surprised him with the sheer amount of rage and power that a tiny insect could have. The sounds she made, the throw of her neck, the pulls were bear-like in nature. The rage was palpable.

Yakwahe struggled with her, clamped onto his neck like a terrible vice. Blood spilled down her coat as the bear stumbled forward, desperately trying to grab at her. He lost steam with every movement. Dizzy. Wavering.

He shook himself as though trying to free water droplets from his fur, wailing in what started as a furious roar and morphed into something small that dropped off at the end in a vague, terrible moan.

At last he found himself again. Yakwahe, a beast among legends, balled the pain and suffering into a weapon. As saliva dripped from his lip and the she-wolf tore away like a terrier on the throat of a bull, the bear finally made contact with some part of her. Just like the rest of them, he pulled the moment he felt it, and when he did he felt her tear him open, and felt his teeth tear her too.

He tried to throw her, but managed only to release her weakly in the air before his weight collapsed over his injured front leg. He moved immediately to rise, growling, moaning, dredging himself up onto shaky, horrible legs with claws that had torn away the souls of many wolf beasts that dark day.