Shadewood With all the fire we can breathe.

Towhee didn’t catch movement out of the corner of her eye so much as a strange shifting in the shadows off to her right. Her head snapped in that direction. Now she caught a glimpse of the wolf rushing her rear, an assault which she attempted to avoid by hastily swinging her posterior out of the direct line of attack.

She didn’t succeed. Towhee felt something—teeth or claws, she couldn’t be sure—rake the scar tissue on her back before she could properly whirl. It hurt like a bitch, pulling a scream from Towhee’s mouth. She felt her attacker’s weight dragging on her hindquarters and did the only thing she could: she lashed out with her fangs toward whatever part of the other wolf she could reach at this angle.