Bearclaw Valley what's fine

a sharp snap of his jaws caught one coyote mid-lunge, its yelp cut short as he clamped down on its scruff. he twisted sharply, using his weight to cast it a few feet away. it was back on its feet within seconds, though skirting off, yipping fearfully as it went.

a limp upon its back leg. twisted, mangled. broken.

another coyote darted toward his flank, jaws snapping for his hind leg. tvar spun, his paw striking out with force, sending the scavenger stumbling back with a sharp whine. his growl resonated low and deep, a sound that echoed through the clearing as he advanced on the next threat.

tvar turned back to the fray, his focus unwavering as he lunged at another coyote, aiming to crush its momentum and drive it back into the shadows where it belonged.