And on that misty morning

The healer and the Lyall in her wished the coyote had just run off after its companion when it found its feet again, but her Archer blood sang at the prospect of another round. She let the coyote charge her, its teeth finding her shoulder but the heigh discrepancy between them left the back of its neck exposed. She grabbed close to the base of its skull, biting down with force before shaking the smaller canine from side to side forcefully. The screaming in her ear was cut short with the satisfying crack and crunch of its neck breaking, but she failed to drop the critter, a low growl in her chest noting the silence that stretched out around them. The scent of blood filled the air and she finally dropped her last combatant, only wishing it was still in its winter pelt, but maybe a hunter could make something nice of it anyway. The others were a bit punctured and bloody, but maybe Sirius’s fang holes could be made into button holes or strap attachments? Now she was starting to think like one of them.

Taking note of the small bodies sprawled out around them she had to chuckle. The size difference between them and herself was about the same as the difference between her and Sirius. How terrifying must his arrival have been to them? "Do yer reckon someone would trade this one fer a turtle shell?" She asked out of the blue, pointing to her last opponent. She had no real use for coyote pelts, definitely didn’t want her den stinking of one, but bowls, well she could never have enough of those. Business as usual.

"speech".