King Elk Forest Like a Gilded Idol

The wound, while not fatal, was lethal. The yearling slowed, its leg dragging behind it as it moved through the woods. Its pauses and hesitations were more markers of its death, one that his companion took advantage of. The brown-and-cream wolf lunged in to hold the yearling down, grabbing at its shoulder, pulling their quarry down enough for Yao to make the kill. 

Even without antlers, the yearling could pose a threat, especially in the irrationality of death throes. He had to be cautious, but he couldn't dawdle any longer. Yao reared up and fixed his jaws in the elk's throat. It jerks. His fangs slide through the skin, not catching on. He snaps again, tighter this time. He's able to pull the elk down with him as his back legs give out. He presses his fangs down, feeling blood spurt into his jaws in waves, and the elk's body kick and squirm as it began to bleed out.