Sawtooth Spire illumination

it was not until the cat was leaping that maplesmoke took notice, so great was the hunter's prowess, its silence, its dedication—perhaps only beaten back by the hunger in its belly.
the cat is leaping, and the stallion barely has time to brace for impact let alone to think of fighting, of kicking or throwing his weight in any regard; but he is fortunate enough to be shadowed by a thundering presence of equal power.
another stallion!
this stranger—who was perhaps a better man than he, as maplesmoke would have never fought with such a demon thing on behalf of a possible rival—throwing themselves up the hill and after the cat.
maplesmoke scrambled. even though the stranger moved in a way that would crush the cat between two broad bodies, those reaching arms and their claws sank in to his haunch, and the cat climbed practically atop him.
he turned his head at just the right moment to avoid a fatal crush to his throat, but not to avoid a bite entire. maplesmoke gave a shriek of pain which became a frothing, furious cough while blood filled his mouth, and he wheeled.