Daytripping

*Crusade* · 07-02-2013, 02:44 PM

As soon as Gerhardt made his charge, Crusade was shoving off, keeping at his tail. The more variables this bull had to watch, the more chances the wolves had of landing their attacks. The Timber cross felt her strides extending, her belly dipping to the ground, her muzzle peeling back to reveal rows of fangs - yeah she was missing a couple, including one that had been ripped out in a fight, but there were still enough to get the job done. The only thing not going for her, was the fact that she was missing her right eye, and it hadn't exactly been brilliant of Gerhardt to place her on the left flank where her blind side was to the monster. But Crusade made do - instead of heading straight at the creature, she curved round a bit.

Her focus was on the bull at this point, so, when the eagle came swooping down to half blind the thin in one go, Crusade was taken aback almost as much as the bull. Her parted jaws twisted in a grin. That evened up the odds a tad now didn't it. ~Oh don't be such a baby~ her thoughts chimed in as her ears were assaulted with the enraged and pained bellows.

As Pontifex went for the side and slightly underneath, Crusade aimed high. She timed it so that her attack hit a second after the gold-eyed male's. The bull wouldn't have time to react to the one before the other came. She leapt from the ground and, while the old wolf didn't exactly stick the landing, her claws dug deep enough into the creature's flesh to give her a foothold. Well, except for her right paw anyway, she'd managed to rip the claws out of that one a couple years back. She was just a walking storybook of scars wasn't she? Well today she'd see if she could get one more.

Throwing the weight of her shoulders into it, Crusade chomped down at the bull's back. ~And to think I'd predicted Cross would be the one trying to go riding.~ She thrashed her head back and forth, trying to dig through the leather and flesh to reach the bones underneath. Despite the bulls bucking and twisting, she had enough time to get pretty deep. After all, she'd probably chosen the safest place to be: too high up for the hooves, too far back for the horns. Crusade kept gnawing, kept plunging her fangs downward still little streams of oily red blood were dripping down the bull's fly bitten hide.

Not bad for her first rodeo.

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