Hoshor Plains You hit me once, I hit you back.

The woman did not come after him immediately. She held her ground, her posture telling him everything he needed to know about the strength of her claim; while the gloss of her coat and general indifference about the retreating birds told him she was well-fed, and that did not bode well for the wolf. It meant she was one of many; and truly, he found the scents of others drifting his way—but there was little time for much more beyond that.

Another figure emerged and swept close to him, teeth snapping almost across his tailbone. The burly figure was not someone he knew but that did not matter—he felt tricked, and targeted, and much like the grouse he had been chasing now the wolf ducked and lunged as best he could out of the reach of the beast that had come from behind.

The fur of his spine was spiked in waves of soot; he spun on his heel and flashed his teeth in a show of deference to both of them, and also to prove he had teeth too. He wasn't afraid to use them.