Squall

Tyrian bared his teeth at the yipping coyotes who were slowly creeping closer. They wanted the elk shank he was bringing home and he had no intention of turning it over without a fight. There were five of them that he could see; two adult males, an adult female, and two sub adults who were hanging back far enough that he had yet to diss out their genders.

The adult males so far had made several unsuccessful attempts to get behind him while the female had done her best to help the male by distracting Tyrian from the front. She lunged at him and worried his feet at every opportunity. So far he had successfully defended himself and thwarted their efforts, but if he didn’t change the balance somehow, soon enough they would tire him and get their way.

Quick as a whip Tyrian swiped at the adult female as she lunged for him. She hadn’t noticed his claws and so the attempted strike came as a surprise to her. She wasn’t fast enough to evade and he succeeded in raking his claws down the side of her face and sent her reeling away. Perhaps now the balance would shift in his favor.