The scent of blood, viscera, and terror filled the low-ceilinged cavern they were trapped in with the worm. In his trance-like state, several wolves had died and Katsu had begun to shake and quiver like a leaf. He had been trained for mock spars, pleasant battles between siblings - nothing like this. Bile rose in his throat as he glanced rapidly around the cavern. Shameful. He was a disgrace. Could he even bear to return home after witnessing this and doing nothing?
There was only one option. Try. Try to do something.
The wolves who had stayed alert and acted valiantly had done some damage. Katsurō steeled himself, inwardly cursing all the while, and ran towards the worm which thrashed madly between the floor and ceiling. Surely by now its strength had waned. He could see places where the hard exterior of it had cracked, oozing some noxious liquid. Katsu hurled himself into the fray, following on the heels of a skull-faced red pup. He was attacking the rear of the beast, which would leave them out of the worm's primary path of chaos and he felt compelled to assist the younger wolf. As he ran, Katsu grabbed a sharp spear of ice that was so cold it burned his tongue and attempted to sink it into another crack that had begun to appear in its hide.
