Bearclaw Valley I'd never want once from the cherry tree

The scent of coyote clung to the air, sharp and pungent, a stench he had grown accustomed to over the years.
Ancelin charged forward, targeting the male with the force of an avalanche, leaving Cole to make his choice. His sharp eyes flicked between the two fleeing females before he veered after the one sprinting toward the brush.
His muscles coiled, and then he lunged. The coyote yelped, trying to twist away, but Cole was faster. His teeth found purchase at the scruff of its neck, yanking it back with a brutal force. It twisted in his grasp, snapping wildly, but he held firm, slamming it down into the dirt with a growl.
No mercy.
The coyote stilled beneath him, its struggles weak before ceasing entirely. Cole huffed, shaking the dust from his coat before lifting his head to scan for Ancelin, his ears pricked for any sign of another lurking threat.