You're a Villian Alright, Just Not a Super One.

The patrol had started off smoothly, but within no time they were being accosted by a pack of coyotes foolish enough to believe that because there was more of them, that they would be successful in their attempt. Dracun couldn't stop the half smile from curling onto his face as he watched his father make the first move towards the leader of the coyotes, quickly tumbling away.

He knew better than to let himself be distracted for too long however, and soon a second coyote was coming for him. They probably thought that they would have the upper paw given his age, but they were wrong. Dracun had killed a coyote before, and although it only had three legs, he doubted this would be too much of a challenge even if there were more than just one. He had to be confident though, he didn't want to need his fathers help.

The coyote thought they were fast, able to sneak up on him without getting noticed but Dracun only let them think that. Ear cocked towards the approaching coyote, he didn't turn to snap until it was lunging at him. Head twisted in time to wrap fangs into the side of the coyotes neck, forcing it's own attack to be nothing but snapping at the thick scruff of fur around his neck. He could barely feel it, and it made him smile. Even his sinlings could bite harder than that, could attack faster than that. This coyote thought that he was smart, but he was not, and Dracun wondered briefly if it was learning that lesson. Not that it would matter today, though, Dracun had no intentions of teaching it a lesson it could use another day... because he wasn't going to allow the coyote another day.

Suddenly, his fangs sunk deep into the flesh of the coyote and he jerked his head back before slamming it into the ground. It was a skinny thing really, and Dracun was certain he would never know what made it so brave. Despite the gaping punctures in its neck, the coyote stood on shaky legs and went in for a second round, this time much slower than the first. Dracun almost laughed as the coyote tried to lunge for a forelimb. What was it hoping for!? With ease the young man lifted and lashed out at the coyote, curling his toes to scrape his nails into the face of the canid and leaving a gash across its face and eye that would certainly end the life of the thing in a matter of moments.

It took less than a few moments really, the coyote already losing enough blood through the neck wound. Once it stopped wiggling on the ground, he smirked and looked back into the crowd of coyotes, ready to take on the next one.