OOC: set during the festival

“HEY!” Tyrian yelled as he approached the mountain lion. His stance was angry; his hackles standing on end. “That’s MINE.” The big cat was standing over a deer leg. The leg was the boy’s supper. To save himself the effort of hunting his father had bought it and a few other pieces from one of the vendors and divvied them up between the kids.

It was unwise to challenge the cat and Tyrian knew it. He didn’t want to fight and he thought that if he talked a big talk and acted like he was willing to fight for it, the cat would back off. He was banking on the knowledge that the island was teeming with wolves thanks to the festival and that the cat, knowing this as well, would be easily dissuaded from violence.

The young mountain lion, full of his oats, was not. He neither appreciated nor was intimidated by the boy pup’s aggressive display. After patiently waiting (perhaps hoping the boy would back down) for Tyrian to get within range, the mountain lion lunged for him, aiming to strike him across the face with a clawed paw.

Odysseus had come to the festival because, well, why not? He could use a little down time. Sure, chasing bugs and fish for the hell of it wasn’t his thing, but many of his pack mates were here and he could soak up some their mirth by proximity.

Currently he was wandering the island by himself. There wasn’t much going on at the moment and his pack mates were going about their business so there wasn’t much for him to do besides look around the island. He had no interest in the festivities themselves.

A boy’s loud and reedy voice gave him pause. He listened, his expression keen, and then decided to investigate.

The scene he walked up on caused his heart to leap into his throat. Out of instinct he threw himself towards the cat before the boy had even made his way halfway across the clearing. He saw a disaster unfolding before his eyes and he couldn’t in good conscience allow himself to be a simple spectator.

With a snarl he slammed into the mountain lion’s hip as it raised its paw to strike the boy. His bulk was enough to roll the cat over and to cause its swipe at the pup to go wild and miss its target.

Balsam wasn’t sure what to make of the festival. There was nothing really to compare it to back home. Sure they had their gatherings and celebrations, but they didn’t have anything quite so...trivial. Was it a celebration of fireflies? If so why? What made them special enough to get their own festival? He was confounded by the whole thing. There had to be more to the story than he was aware of.

So far he’d caught himself a few fireflies, but in doing so he’d felt like a little pup and quickly abandoned the game to save his dignity. It was just too weird for him.

His hackles rose as an angry shout echoed off the rocks. With head and tail low Balsam stalked towards the noise. It was a shame there were no trees around otherwise he would have been up it in a heartbeat.

Balsam too arrived just as the mountain lion was gearing up for its attack. He could see it coming; how the lion tensed and drew his legs underneath him. Both pointed to a feline preparing to attack. Balsam was no stranger to fighting cats. They were admirable fighters both on the ground and in the trees and they were, save for the smallest of their species, too wily for a pup to take on.

Though he was not one to rise to the defense of a giant - and this boy was certainly one - he was the sort to defend a pup. For the child’s sake he couldn’t simply stand by.

Balsam came at the mountain lion from the opposite side. He was so focused on the cat that he didn’t see Odysseus coming his way. He struck the mountain lion’s left knee just as Odysseus struck its left hip. Though he had anticipated tripping the cat up, Balsam wasn’t prepared for a much larger wolf to strike the opposite side of the cat. The combined blows of the two adult wolves caused the cat to roll directly onto Balsam.

Tyrian knew he'd been gambling with his life from the very beginning, but he couldn't be dissuaded to let the meal go without a fight. He just couldn't. It was his leg! That being said, as the mountain lion's paw began its descent he'd decided in that moment that he'd really messed up. There was no denying it at that point. Instinctively he'd flinched back and braced for the blow that would no doubt ribbon his face, but it never came. Instead there was a snarl from the cat and a thud as bodies collided. Tyrian opened his eyes to a very different scene than the one he'd closed them to.

Well he couldn't just let those two strangers defend him, could he? Just the thought of them defending him while he ran off and hid wounded his pride. No, he couldn't let that stand.

As the cat rolled Tyrian dove for one of its raised front paws. He sunk his teeth into its toes and yanked backwards, digging in his heels in the hopes of worsening the damage to the toes as the cat fell away from him. The resistance would hopefully be enough to skin the toes and perhaps even dislocate them if he managed to hold his ground until the cat was on the ground. It seemed fitting that he wound the foot that had just moments ago been aimed at him. If the two strangers didn't murder the cat there and then Tyrian hoped he gave the mountain lion a limp to remember him by.

Odysseus didn't see the small, raccoon- looking wolf until it was too late. By the time he saw Balsam he was already chest to hip with the mountain lion and there was no going back. He had just enough to register the dwarf's wide green eyes when he disappeared under the tawny cat. Unfortunately for the little wolf, freeing him from the downed mountain lion wasn't Odysseus' highest priority. No, he knew how quickly felines could whip around and right themselves. If he didn't give the mountain lion his full attention he could very well find himself slashed to ribbons before he knew it. The little wolf would have to free himself. No doubt the cat would be on his paws any moment and given that Odysseus was a much larger threat he was confident that it would give him the bulk of his attention. If the dwarf was smart he would seize the first opportunity to put some distance between himself and the mountain lion.

He sidestepped clumsily, trying to avoid stepping on both the mountain lion and the wolf trapped beneath it, and then spun back quickly to sink his teeth into the mountain lion's flailing back leg. Against the odds Odysseus managed to grab it from the air. He wasted no time in giving it a yank - perhaps while dealing with the cat he could free the little wolf after all - and trying his best to drag the cat away from the other wolves. In an instant though he was forced to release the limb and backpedal as the cat folded over on itself and swung at him over its haunch. He felt the wind off his claws whistle by the end of his nose. No doubt he'd lost a whisker or two.

The titan bared his teeth at the mountain lion and dared it to try its luck against him.

Balsam had just enough time to stare up at the giant in horror before the world disappeared behind a veil of tawny fur. His lungs filled with the stink of cat and he clawed wildly at the beast's ribs. It wasn't so much an attack as it was an attempt to claw his way free, but nonetheless damage was done. For what felt like an eternity he was weighed down by a great weight - both the lion and the big wolf, maybe? - and then quite quickly the bulk of it was gone.

The cat's bony rib cage drug across his skull as the cat curled in on itself after Odysseus and there was little Balsam could do besides shove at it. He kicked and he clawed, wiggled and flailed, and at last he popped out from under the mountain lion like a bizarre, confused newborn. Balsam gaped up at the sky and breathed deep the clean sea air.

His relief was short lived, however, as he quickly remembered there was more to worry about than the weight of the mountain lion. Afraid he might find the cat looming over him, Balsam spun around to face him. Unbeknownst to him, Odysseus was right. The mountain lion, having to pick which of the wolves posed the biggest threat, chose Odysseus. He had its attention. It stood, one wounded front paw slightly raised, and stared at him with tail lashing and lips curled back in a snarl. Balsam could tell it didn't want to fight anymore. It looked like it was on the verge of fleeing and all it needed was a push. So he decided to give it a push.

He leaped forward with a snarl and feinted an attack. At the last second he intended to pull back and veer away, but his caution was unnecessary. It was as he'd suspected; the cat just needed a push. It fled the scene as quickly as its wounded paws could carry it.