At mér skyldi kaupa

His slam lands, and Beauregard grunts as something sharp slice into his shoulder. A blade? A mutation. He does not know with the rain and dark. He snarls, both in pain and anger as he shoots to keep pushing into his opponent against the mud in an effort to literally push him back. Above them Trill calls out in warning as lightning flashes, just quick enough for Beauregard to shift his weight back as his light furred opponent grabs at his leg. Beau anchors down, attempting to resist the pull as he twists his head toward the younger male’s neck. Beauregard’ teeth seek purchase, hoping to grab the scruff and hold him before his larger foe lifts it back up after his slicing attack. But he will grab for what he can, praying he can get a hold as Blind dives at the yearling’s forepaw with jaws open. The only one who got to harass Beau was her!

"Speech," 'Thought.'