Bulls In The Bronx [Raid]

As his fight against Dragon broke apart, he danced forward a bound, the big cat’s jaws missing his rump. However, Dragon and his cat were no longer Regulus’ immediate concern. He gave a quick gesture of welcome to Justice, indicating Dragon’s retreating form in an ‘all yours’ manner, a cold brow lifting, making it clear he had noticed her rage aimed at him, and that they would be having words later.

Then it was on into the next fight. He had been relatively unscathed in the melee, something that surprised him, and so he calculated swiftly as he spotted the incoming Talisian female barreling toward him. The one Castiel had thrown himself at.

He didn’t let himself think about what that meant, instead clicking his brain back into that cold, clear mindset, letting his heart settle, and waiting until the female was nearly upon him before bounding forward a half-stride, roughly two feet, tail flicking level with his spine as he went, hackles still raised in a thick ridge along his back from the base of his skull to the base of his tail.

Her attacks missed completely with his quick forward movement, and as he canted his weight back into his haunches – dropping them slightly lower than his shoulders and back by a few inches – he spun to his left, whirling swiftly and neatly on his hocks in a 180° about-face to attempt at bringing himself around to line up with his nose to the left side of Valdis’ head, just ahead of her ears at a ninety-degree angle—with their heads as the corner.

He retained his defenses—ears pinned, eyes narrowed to guard them against Valdis’ teeth should they come for his face. His front paws came to earth, though he still kept most of his weight and thrusting power in his hind legs, all four paws spread evenly, hind paws slightly wider beneath his hips to better bear weight, as he let all four legs bent slightly to loosen his joints and lower his center of gravity.

His jaws parted as he sought to lunge forward, head snaking slightly downward and seeking to sink his upper canines into the socket of Valdis’ left eye, wishing to blind it, while his lower canines sought to rip into the soft, hollow point under her left jaw, with high hopes of damaging the tongue’s tender muscle and cause immense agony with the bite, while maintaining hope of gaining a grip on her head by the socket and jaw to do later damage with, as well as trying to pin her jaw shut with that grip.

He threw a majority of his weight into that lunge, forward and down with a hard shove as he tensed the muscles in his neck, seeking to put a load of power behind his desired bite and drive her head to her right and down to the ground. Simultaneously, he sought to slam the whole right side of his chest into the side of Valdis’ left shoulder, aiming for the midpoint of her scapula, seeking to destabilize the smaller wolf to aid in his shoving bite attempt, in hopes of driving her whole front-end toppling to the ground with his larger size and weight, and to leave a few mild to moderate bruises behind.

His tail swept behind him for added balance as his right foreleg snapped up, weight rocking to the other three legs as he sought to throw his right shoulder forward and to slam the hard point of his right shoulder into a point five inches directly behind her left shoulder, ten inches above the point of Valdis’ left elbow, and into her ribs and large muscle there. His hope was to combine his forward momentum and shoulder thrust to deal severe bruising to Valdis’ muscle there, and jar the breath from her lungs. Cracked ribs would be a bonus, but unlikely without a full head of steam.

Simultaneously, he sought to wrap his right foreleg around the inside of Valdis’ left foreleg – in particular, around the left ankle with his own right ankle – with the hope of yanking Valdis’ whole left front leg toward himself and steal away a pillar of balance and perhaps even gain a hold on it. As he gave a slight hop forward with his left foreleg to better stabilize his balance, the toes of his three legs flexed to better aid his traction and balance, with the help of his claws as they sank into the peat and soil of the Moor.

Through it all, he kept a tight rein on his adrenaline, keeping his breathing as even as possible under the exertions of battle. Adrenaline, he knew, would tire him out more swiftly than a clear head and calculated movements, and he would need all the strength and energy he possessed to ensure this bunch of hooligans were thrown back over the border with their tails behind their legs.

Height: 42"

Build: Heavy

Extra Notes: Whoo! Here goes! Good luck Luns!