Big Salmon Lake And the grass all smells the same

Just as he was about to shout an order at the girl, she took it upon herself to skirt into the path of the fawn and lunge for it's throat.

"Don't!" His shout came in the form of a snarling clashing of his teeth. By the time he'd gotten it out, they were already rolling violently to the ground.

Vezof.

Stark moved in an instant, his instincts snapping into place as he watched Needle collide with the fawn, their bodies tangled in a volatile tumble. The muscles along his pale frame coiled with a pent energy, and his legs launched him forward. He was intent to close the garnered distance within a heartbeat, else Needle trip up and face injury.

She was vulnerable beneath the thrashing hooves and flailing limbs of the large fawn, and something like paranoia coiled about Stark's calloused heart when he heard the calamity of noises. Shrill cries of the fawn mingled with the pained yelp of Needle as the two squabbled upon the ground.

He didn't care anything about this whelp. But for some agitating and perplexing reason, fear held him in it's iron shackles. As if he'd been here before.

Stark was upon them after what felt like an eternity, his powerful jaws finding the back of the fawn’s neck in a crushing grip. The creature kicked and struggled, a frantic, pitiful bleating filling the air as it fought to get free.

While Needle was able to recover from the tangled and kicking limbs of the strong fawn, he pushed a majority of his weight down upon the thing. He had to bite down harder to ignore the discomfort of hooves pressed into his sides.

A flash of his good eye cut towards the yearling, a silent will for her to act. Kill.