Swiftcurrent Creek little puppet made of pine.

Chaos erupted as the two wolves besieged the unsuspecting wolverine, and a bitter cacophony filled the air -- all three of them gnashing, snarling, scraping. They all fought for different reasons. The ambushed, of course, fought for its own life. Figment, noble at every opportunity, fought to protect something he loved. And River... She fought to keep it all at bay.

There was no thinking in killing. No time for much reflection or reform. It was simply do or die, and she had no intention of dying that day.

That being said, the wolverine by far had the most compelling reason to win this fight or escape it. The creature surely tried both. River had missed her mark by a hair, only managing to graze the assaulted beast's thigh as it swung its hindquarters away and batted at them with a leonine might. Figment's attack was much more successful, but it had put him directly in harm's way, and River saw him buckle from a swipe.

Without thinking, she threw herself down onto the predator's back and clamped down hard on its nape. The fur and skin was so thick there, that she wasn't even sure she was hurting it, but she certainly had its attention. The two of them slammed sideways into the dirt; River holding on tightly, while the wolverine twisted its weasely body to draw blood from her with its hindlegs.