Sunspire Mountains Back in my hometown

Although he was a bit of a lightweight in his current state, Dusty was a difficult wolf to pin down. Oh, he was thrown to the ground and tossed around quite easily, but he had a way of getting his paws back underneath him that seemed incompatible with possessing a skeleton. He was quick and he was bendy — but in close quarters, it still wasn't too difficult for a larger animal to gain the upper hand.

Still, Dusty put his all into it, scrapping as best he could until a tender spot on his scruff was tweaked, and he let out a yelp of surprise and clamped his teeth down on the nearest piece of Shey he could find. A more painful bite than any other he'd aimed the other wolf's way, but still far more scolding than aggressive.

In any case, it was only a quick snap before he tore himself from the wrestling match regroup.

"Ow," he accused, shaking out his pelt and then plopping down on his rump to scratch furiously with his hind leg. Tufts of fur glued together by flaking scabs and clumps of crusty serous fluid went flying in a cloud through the air, and the resultant thinning of the fur on Dusty's scruff revealed a colorful array of puncture wounds. Nothing serious, but it was certainly still itchy and sore — and clearly a few days too old to have been inflicted on him by Shey.