Battling the world

It was hard not to pause while he moved along, watching the ease with which his father dispatched a coyote as it strayed too close. His companions moved in tandem with practiced synchronicity, the pale cat lunging from where she'd crouched in the snow to dispatch one of the tawny canines. He was so used to seeing his father's companions as friends and playmates, it was jarring to be reminded of their deadly skill in battle. He picked himself back up and skirted the clearing. The crunch of packed snow beneath his oversized paws was easily drowned out by the fray of the pack fighting for their lives, and he gained the element of surprise.

The golden prince burst from the undergrowth with his sabre fangs bared, and took the back legs out from one coyote with a swipe of his massive forepaw. That left him with an opening while the smaller canine struggled to its paws again. He pinned it in place beneath his heftier bulk, one paw placed over its hips as he lunged to latch his teeth into its neck. He had to really dig his teeth in, clenching his jaw muscles with all his might to sever the arteries as he cut off its windpipe. With each moment its frantic struggling grew more feeble, until he felt safe to release his grip and let the blood loss do the rest.

Heavy skull lifted as the young male looked to where he knew the other coyote had been standing, now alone on the field of battle. He'd been too focused to notice if his father had taken care of it or not, but already the boy was in motion to close the distance between them. Ah, there it was. As he suspected, his father had taken care of the straggler. He'd have to get better at this if he wanted to keep pace with the Warlord. Blood dripped from his pale blond maw as he grinned up at his sire. "We showed them!" he announced, adrenaline still thrumming through his veins.