Flycatcher Downs vorarephobia

His teeth caught flesh, jaws instinctually tightening until he met bone. By now the deer's blood flowed freely down the soft furs of his chin and arced in red ribbons as both wolf and buck moved in vicious tandem. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep his feet firmly on the ground with little to find purchase on other than dry dirt - soon enough he was flung from his grip.

Pain blossomed in his shoulder at his awkward landing, but he was pleased to see the beast had stopped running and had begun to face its death-bringer whale-eyed and breathy. He was even more pleasantly surprised to see the brown hunter return, more than happy for the help.

He was quick to return to the fight, hunger and adrenaline reducing his injury to a dull pulse, jaws snapping at its hocks so that hunter-friend could seek an opening.