Dawnlark Plains XV

the bull shook its head at the dog, lunged forward and stopped.

diesel stood her ground.

she'd not let raw hamburger meat intimidate her into tucking tail between her asscheeks. the scent of its rot told her - told both it and her - that sooner than later it would be dead. maybe the puss would fill its treetrunk neck, maybe a bigger bitch than she would come, maybe its fuckbros would tear it open, possibilities were endless!

in staring down the bull her still recalibrating brain didn't realize the cause of its sudden lack of interest. only when the ground shook under her paws did she know, and diesel whipped head head around to see a bison - the big one - charging at her.

fuck.

the mastiff ran. not towards her wolfman, but around the wounded animal, to put an obstacle in the way of the other.

she headed for terrain harder for a bison to cross, demanding of god to let her reach it or for the bull to give up, before her stunted airways did so first.