The Floodlands I'm with the band.

Towhee and the bobcat remained statuesque, until something moved on the cat's other side, causing it to lose the staring contest as its attention diverted. The yearling took a split second to note the source of movement—a petite and unfamiliar she-wolf painted in autumn colors—before seizing the opportunity to eliminate what she considered a threat much too close to the plateau for her liking.

While the bobcat was busy snarling at the second wolf, Towhee sprang toward the curve of its neck. She knew the risks, though hopefully her unwitting accomplice had created the perfect opening for her.