Bearclaw Valley a reckonin' is comin'

while cole charged in, tvar's steps carried him closer, his gaze narrowing as he assessed the coyotes. they were agitated, distracted, the raccoon above them keeping their focus skyward.

an opportunity, if used correctly.

tvar’s lip curled faintly as his tail lashed once. he hung back just enough to keep himself in cole’s periphery, letting the other wolf take the charge while preparing to flank if needed. whatever the outcome, he’d ensure none of the scavengers left unscathed.

when cole struck, tvar only then rushed in. snatching the first coyote to try and scatter, teeth catching it by the scruff. immediately it thrashed, flopping like a fish in his jaws and he drags the scav through the snow, crunching harder on his neck.

dropping it only when he hears a satisfying snap of bone.