Dragoncrest Cliffs We can weep and call it singing

A suicide mission is likely exactly what Ephraim would have considered if Vercingetorix hadn't found him when he did. He knew full well he couldn't take on an entire pack of wolves by himself, even if they were a disorganized militia of complete strangers who couldn't hope to have the synergy of their larger neighbour. But he would go out in a blaze of glory then, fighting for Drageda... and in spite of his logic telling him no one would admire him for it, Ephraim liked to think his bravery would be envied.

But Verx stopped him with a smile and a demand. The little coywolf sized up the larger wolf and knew it was pretty well hopeless. He hadn't yet figured out a way to defeat a larger opponent when one swing of those huge jowls could make his knees buckle. He hypothesized that if he never got hit, then he would be able to whittle down his opponent with his weaker but faster hits, but it was completely unrealistic. He needed to formulate a better plan.

So just as Verx knew he was going to lose, Ephraim also knew, but at length he ground out a resigned, okay, and set his stance, splaying his legs to balance himself out and bouncing his weight over the balls of his feet. From this position he could dart either way without faltering much at all; changing direction was a breeze when prepared. Then he did the only thing he had actually learned could give him a slight advantage in a fight: he beckoned for Verx to take the first move, so he could watch the more experienced warrior more closely and react accordingly.