Wolves without Teeth. / O; bear confrontation

[teef]

  -- The sound of fighting was not a foreign sound to The Mad Dog. If anything, it was as intimate and close as a lover. The one affected by battle, he wasn’t as familiar with. Her scent mingled with the scent of pain brought the dire wolf over in a trot, keen sense of smell picking up the tang of blood within a second of his starting on her trail. Paws slipping into grooves, nose lowered to the ground to better hold her trail before lifting his head, her scent richer and thicker as he came close, the sounds of battle ringing in his ears.

Fur ruffling along his hips, the epicyon gave a snort, pushing from the forest surrounding the encounter. Jaws spreading into an effortless snarl, saliva strung between jaws capable of crushing skulls, he looked to the young dig by the tree, his lips pulling back. She bore the scent of his group, of this land. He didn’t remember meeting her before but it made very little difference to him – he couldn’t remember everyone anyways. A quick glance over her coat caused a surge of strange unease within him. Could she be one of his cubs? Her stature was enough to suggest it but she didn’t show many, if any markings that would solidify such a thought.

Her wounds were worrying enough, but first duties were to take the bear down or chase it from the territory. Strange that it was awake, even more so that it had begun foraging at this point. Licking his teeth, he focused his attention on the beast that had harmed her, tail raising with a growl as he moved forward quickly over the ground. Teeth flashing as he lunged at the bear's legs, its thick scent too musty to tell if it had cubs or not. It was best to drive it off from the area, at the very least. Though he doubted it would live long with a leg injury such as it had. Ducking a fierce swipe, he jumped upwards, sinking his claws into the skin of the shoulder, tearing away thick fur. Clamping his jaws onto said shoulder, his coat bristled as he held on as it dropped to the forest floor on all fours.

Shaking his head side to side, he let go to get a better grip, paws pushing into the other boat’s shoulders. Tearing his head back, he spat out his mouthful of fur, sinking his teeth into the other shoulder with a bone shaking snap of his jaws and ferocious growl. Feeling and hearing the bear's distress, The Mad Dog released his quarry, leaping from it’s back as it moved to go crashing through the trees, blindly towards the inner part of the territory. Eyes flashing as he thought of the others in camp, let alone the children, he took off on its heels, using the length of his legs to his ability to surge in front of it. With a mighty swipe of his own paw, he battered it’s nose and with the encouragement of his teeth, he helped it turn away and book it for the outer territory, supposedly back to its territory. Seeing it off for a few miles, he returned to the clearing where he had left the young woman.
Pushing his head through the foliage, he yawned, spitting out more fur. Brushing through dead ferns and bracken, he grunted quietly, stopping a distance away, “ye okay, pup? That is quite the nasty bite.”, hells if he was tending her wound. Others knew more than he did of medicinal trades. Those beings could look after her, he was only responsible for bringing her home. “can ye stand on yer own?” he asked with curiosity, wondering if he needed to aid her in that fashion.

SHOW ME YOUR BEAUTIFUL ANGER
-- speaks in #03254C -- the mad dog