blindsided

Suddenly, from directly in front of Kierkegaard, the growl was returned. His brows were cast forward until they formed shadows over his fiery eyes. His frown turned into a ghastly scowl, and his ears flattened entirely to his skull. He could not see the opponent through the thick fog; it made his actions limited. Taking a few lengthy steps forward, the ashen brute clicked his teeth together and shuddered. Saliva fell from his gaping jowls to the earth. Another growl erupted from his chest and throat, striking the air like a distant wave of thunder across a stormy sky. His brilliant orange-gold eyes darted to and fro in search of the opponent who had responded to his challenge. Flicking his salmon-pink tongue across his long canines, Kierke’s hackles slowly began to rise along his spine. Just then, the wolf recognized the scent of the stranger’s pack. It was the very pack where he had seen the grizzly and had gotten into a scuff with two of their wolves. He still bore the teeth marks on his hock. Paranoia settled into his mind as he thought back on this. Wondering, only to himself, if this was the same wolf who he had insulted before.