Heron Lake Plateau [m] Got death on his breath, halitosis

“What—! Aargh!” 

The searing pain in a hind leg jerked him awake, only registering seconds later that another had attacked him as he slept. At first, he thought of Reina and the possibility that it could be her. It would certainly be warranted, given the fact he had done many more acts of violence to her in the time he had stolen her away.

But, no, she slept apart from him still—drugged to high heavens, no doubt—and unawares to the presence that was his attacker. 

A vicious snarl and a swift kick from his free hind leg, he managed to create some distance, though not by much as he found his other leg wounded and slightly disabled as a result. The assessment of the other was quick: medium in stature, but thick of muscle; a dark muddy cloak of fur adorned with a hood of golden. 

Who was this man? Did he believe himself a knight in shining armor, or the wolf version of Robin Hood? Did he think himself a hero? The deadly shadow had scented pack, much the same as he had smelled on Reina. His nose wrinkled in disgust. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are? How dare you come here under the guise of night to attack a man as he sleeps? Have you no decency? My wife and I have done nothing to deserve such treatment!” It was a shot in the dark, he knew, to feign innocence. If it worked, it would certainly give them a chance to flee and get the hell out of dodge. But, the scent of pack was strong and it may be the only reason he would see no other way out of this but to fight the raging bull before him.