Maybe I should cry for help

Just a kid, just a kid, They are both just kids, but he doesn't let his gaze falter from the gangly adolescent cub. It lacks the bulk of a full grown bear, much like Corsair lacks the bulk of a full grown... Whatever he is.

The axe is swung and wheels off to the side, only the movement in his periphery keeps him from stalking into its path. When the other wolf asks him to hand it to him, dexterous paws are put to work the heft of the weapon foreign but he holds it out only long enough for his companion to take up the weight, unsettling collie stare still focused on the bear cub and then he is moving.

Low, savage, intent. Chest low to the ground in a way that feels more natural than breathing, a growl, and a strangled bark, his vocal cords not quite made right for the gesture. He lunges at ankles and underbelly, whatever might drive the predator away. He can feel it in his bones, in his blood. Keep pushing. Make it move.

"speech"