i'm hearing all the alarms ring-a-ling

Davey's grip on his axe slips, the blade wedging in the skull of the last coyote trying to fuck his day up. That's alright, he'd retrieve it later. Panting from the effort, muscles straining, the boy is pushing himself well and truly now. This is the home stretch, as he wraps his teeth around the rear of a coyote staring down his temporary companion.

Snap. Crunch. Reaching out with his claws to get a better grip, Davey climbs over the beast. Taking it down slowly-- figuring out just how dulled his capabilities were, now that he's lost control of his weapon. A valuable lesson for the boy, though he'd still come out victorious.

"speech"