Die Hard

In the depths of the forest, a fiery boy prowled with  quiet intensity. His crimson fur blended seamlessly with the dappled moonlight filtering through the canopy above. Agile and swift, he moved with the grace of a practiced predator, his senses alert. He was no stranger now to the lull of the night, it hid his pelt all the more.

Unbeknownst to Redrum however, danger lurked in the darkness — a trio of coyotes, their yellow eyes glinting with malice as they stalked their unsuspecting prey. With silent coordination, they closed in on Redrum, their malignant intentions masked by the night.

Suddenly, the air was thick with tension as the ambush sprung into action. Redrum's ears twitched at the faint rustle of leaves, his instincts kicking into overdrive as he spun to face his assailants. Three pairs of gleaming eyes met his own, an overt challenge issued to the boy who stood taller than all three. But he was still just a boy.

With a defiant snarl, Redrum leaped into action, his muscles coiling with desperate energy. He was outnumbered, but he refused to back down. They would not have his life. The coyotes circled him, their movements calculated — still Redrum held his ground, his gaze never wavering. Lips upturned in aggression, his defensive stance long since settled into.

The first coyote lunged forward, jaws snapping with razor-sharp teeth. Redrum dodged the attack with lightning reflexes, his movements quick and precise. He countered with a swift swipe of his claws, sending the coyote reeling back with a yelp of pain.