Sleepy Fox Hollow Get Joanie on the phone, she'll leave us on a light

Wylla's charge ended with an extended shoulder thudding into Mahler's breast, but the General was both larger and more solidly built than his wiry Pionier. A mere flex of the muscles in his legs shaped him into an immovable wall. A wall that rumbled with laughter. Wylla wrinkled her muzzle and shoved harder against him to no avail. She couldn't hope to move Mahler when he was pushing back.

Another tactic was in order. As abruptly as she could manage, she angled her muzzle up toward his throat and shoved her cold nose against the thin skin there. Anything to disrupt his focus so she might push him back even just one inch.