Spring skills

The wind was picking up something awful by the time Alaric had strolled into the land. His noses wrinkled ever so slightly as the smell of a coyote enter his wet nostrils. His white fur was beaten against his body and he watched with disinterest as leaves were being tossed about carelessly, chaotically, in the wind. It wasn't the leaves he was after. Alaric was now face to face with a displeased coyote, who seemed to want him gone. It was guarding a half eaten rabbit carcass. Usually, Alaric didn't pick fights for no reason. Yet, he felt almost prodded to accept the coyote's invitation to fight.

The wind made his running slower, the gusts of winds almost knocked him off his feet several times by the time he closed the gap between him and the coyote. His maws splayed open and lurched for the coyote's scruff, successfully securing it. However, the coyote was not backing down without a fight. Alaric heard it's angered cries and could feel it's fangs trying to grasp him. He shook it violently, feeling his fangs pierce the skin and the warmth of blood feeling his mouth.

The coyote writhe and twisted it's body around in a desperate attempt to be able to grasp Alaric. It succeeded, his fangs sunk deep into Alaric's shoulder. Alaric snarled viciously and released his grip, only to go in immediately after for the back of the head. Since the coyote was smaller, it was a easy target.

He could feel the coyote's fangs burrowing deep into his skin and he winced with pain. His maws clasped down onto an ear, much to his displeasure he could not grasp the entire back of the head. He ripped and tore off the ear with some effort. He spat out the loose chunk of flesh, the wind seemed to carry it off almost immediately.

Alaric's grasp must have worked, as the Coyote relented it's gripped on his shoulder to whip around and try to go for Alaric's throat. Instinctively, Alaric tuck his chin and pinned his ears to his skull. His fiery gaze met with the coyote's with a blazing determination. The coyote could not reach his throat and Alaric moved forward to do something rather reckless.

Alaric lowered his head and rammed his skull against the coyote's own skull. A headbutt move and he did not hold back. His mind wheeled and he shut his eyes, opening them to see the coyote staggering back. He watched as it struggled to keep it footing against the wind. He took was finding it difficult to stay on foot. His head pounded with pain and he was regretting his reckless act. The coyote was not done with him and neither was he with it.

The coyote rushed forwards against the wind carrying fur and blood from its ravaged wounds. Alaric could feel the wind stinging and tearing his own past their original marks. He gritted his fangs and braced himself for the collision. He spread his legs and attempted to keep himself balanced amongst the strong winds. His maws splayed open one more time as he sought out the incoming coyote's throat.

His jaws latched on but rather loosely. He could feel the coyote writhe underneath his unstable grip, threatening to break free. His eyes narrowed harshly as he pushed forwards in a desperate attempt to get a better grasp. He used a front paw to wrap around the coyote’s back, holding it down but forfeiting some of his balance in the process. This move at last secured him a tighter grip on the throat.

Alaric's grip tightened and tightened. His fangs burrowed past the soft fur and into the skin, shedding blood the deeper they dove in. He could feel the coyote's heartbeat against his fangs, it was rapid and forceful. It was too late for it. His fangs severed the vital tie of arteries and in return, blood gushed from the wound at such an alarming rate that Alaric released his grasp.

Spitting out the excess blood in his maw, Alaric watched with a merciless stare as the coyote’s life flashed before it's eyes. The heaving of its sides fluttered and came to an eventual stop. It's body finally fell limp altogether, signaling it's passing. Alaric nodded to the coyote, but his job here wasn't done.

Alaric took careful care in harvesting the coyote’s fangs and pelt for himself. What he would do with such trophies, he wasn't sure as of yet. Perhaps a type of weapon? A defense armor? A nice necklace? The possibilities were endless. Once the prized possessions were harvested, Alaric rolled the teeth in the middle of the hide then rolled the hide into a small bundle.

He carried it with a firm grip through the windy terrain, the winds carrying the scent of blood and death from the kill. He was proud of himself. He made progress today.