Dawnlark Plains XV

hot, thick, flavourful blood poured down her chin, and it was the most delicious drink the bitch had ever had.

but her jaw muscles were abused, ignored until they locked up awkwardly, the beef slipping out her grasp.

diesel rolled, and the kicking hinds of the bull found her side, sending her barreling further back.

once stopped, the mastiff laid on her side in the grass, snorting and panting and in awful pain from jaw to hip.

once again the train of thought was a conga line of most demeaning terms, directed at the bull, herself, the kid-

shit, what was the kid doing?

her head lifted with such difficulty, and in time to see her wolf fly.

shit, fuck, shit.

diesel was trembling when she rose to her paws, and began limping and loping and limping for the bull, barking hoarsely to get its attention, or chase it off or something that would get its big ugly head away from her big ugly man.