Bearclaw Valley violent disposition

Throwing the limp body to the side, he was ready for the lunging attacks. Clamping jowls, protruded teeth— he'd be lucky enough that they aren't rabid with how disgustingly they drooled. Fuckers wouldn't be getting away this time. But Tvar wasn't here.
It was just him and Winnie. Winnie, Winnie.
Blood churned louder, hotter, venomous. A coyote attached to his back, one at his forepaw, one at his tail. Three left. That's it.
He'd faced worse. Done worse. He'd taken men the same size as him, torn their throats from their bodies, hung their heads on spikes. He was a monster, but in this moment, he was a totem of God serving Winslet.
When they trickled upon him like snow, he surged backward. Leaping back, crushing his weight to the ground, there was a satisfying crack from the spine of one coyote. The one braised against his spine, gone.
Two.
Jumping back up, he kicked the body away. Casting a glance towards Winslet, it was both anger and worry. How did she fuckin' end up here? How'd these mongrels scathe by undetected? No time for questions. Ain't got time for this.
The other two would feign interest in Winnie. Their attention's pivoted as quick as a fall of a dime, but Cole was faster. Lurching in their path, he was a guardian in front of her. Take it out on me.
Again they launched, and he too met them with such ferocity. A titan walking amongst mortals, he focused on one. Pounding heart against his chest, he stepped on the throat of one, pinning it beneath his black feet. The other aimed for his shoulder, ripping skin, and he snapped his teeth in reply. Through the forearm his teeth struck true, mangling the bone until it protruded from ugly skin.
And he'd force the choking one to watch.
Slowly he ripped them apart. Bone cracking against molars, blood seeping from his lips. The coyote let out a belligerent cry, and it fueled him further. Gas to a two stroke. The other leg was next, popped out of the socket. A yelp. Beneath his paw the other mewled, vision darkening. He was a conqueror of death, all four horsemen in one united body.
With a final snap, the coyote with snapped forelegs fell to the ground. Bone shining. Splintering. The one beneath him was a fast death, remorseful, perhaps. A snap to it's neck, clean, guileless.