Blacktail Deer Plateau I killed Mufasa

Junior let loose a noise unlike anything Pura had ever heard. It hit him like a Counter-Strike flashbang, bleaching the world and filling his ears with cotton. Unfortunately, his nose still functioned. The smell of infected flesh reached into his nostrils like a pair of hot pokers - far too close a relative to the familiar scent of wolf to be anything but abhorrent.

"Mmph!" he grunt-squealed (gruealed? sqrunted?), backpedaling with the rotting limb still between his teeth. His primitive mind wanted to let go of the pus-filled, reeking mess, but blind panic had short-circuited his ability to heed good advice. With his mouth now drooling with blood and whatever other hideous juice-creatures Junior was incubating, Pura gave the damaged limb a hard, merciless yank.