Of course, it had been her own damn fault.
Her pinchers ground uncomfortably against his as they grappled, chitinous barbs locking them together as they gnashed and pushed and snarled between each others' grasps. She heaved his snapping jaws away from her muzzle with a twist of her head, neck straining as her heavy paws slid backwards against the slick, wet grass. Her opponent's own claws dug into the churned soil for purchase, forcing himself forward as he snarled and spit against her hold. She was larger, yes, but he was vindictive, and the pelting rain was angled towards his backside where unlike her, he didn't have to squint and snort to keep the icy water from getting into his eyes and nostrils.
Asshole, Ida snarled to herself, as if she hadn't been the one to trail him through the grasslands and pounce only when he stood battered and bloody atop a well-earned elk carcass. It had been her own damn fault this was happening, and the sky breaking from an unpleasant drizzle into an autumn downpour was just the cherry on top.
He surged forwards then, snapping blocky fangs inches from her nose as she twisted her aching neck and forced his pincers up and away where his jaws were forced to follow. She was under him now, gnashing her own fangs furiously just short of his throat as her forepaws kicked off the earth and forced their heads even higher. He was forced to follow her lead, rearing onto his own hindlegs and trading heavy blows between them with now freed paws. Ida had no idea how long they'd been grappling like this, only that the rain somehow kept getting even heavier and goddamn, her neck hurt.
Her mistake came then, as the smaller wolf sharply angled his head to the right and dragged their pincers askew. The slick grass finally slipped between Ida's hind paws, and with a roar of panicked fury, she toppled over and dragged her opponent down with her. The earth was steep there, topped with rolling hills and sharp gullies, and the two wolves rolled and bit and clawed in a flurry of fur and chitin as they tumbled down and through the grassland as Ida's vision spun from disorientation and pain.
One moment she felt his pincers wrenched from her grasp, and then she felt jaws wrapping around her throat. She expected him to crunch, and the sensation of her windpipe collapsing just as the elk's had done, but at that moment the earth beneath them slipped and lightning split the darkness. Ida saw a flash of stone, and her vision went black as pain exploded in the back of her skull with a crack that deafened the thunder.
--
Most wolves would not describe Ida as a 'friendly face', but most wolves had never seen Ida in such a peaceful state.
She laid against the trunk of a mighty taiga tree not far from the bubbling springs, massive body slumped and head resting heavily across her broad paws. She slept, not as if knocked unconscious, but instead as if she'd curled for a quiet nap in the snow. The welts and bruises from her battle had vanished, along with the gash that should have split her skull in two. A snore rumbled out from her chest, expression surprisingly serene as autumn daylight dappled across her scarred pelt and dirtied chitin.
Maureen could find her here, laying out in the open so obviously as hot steam puffed from her nostrils and rhythmic snores split the cold, quiet air.
Her pinchers ground uncomfortably against his as they grappled, chitinous barbs locking them together as they gnashed and pushed and snarled between each others' grasps. She heaved his snapping jaws away from her muzzle with a twist of her head, neck straining as her heavy paws slid backwards against the slick, wet grass. Her opponent's own claws dug into the churned soil for purchase, forcing himself forward as he snarled and spit against her hold. She was larger, yes, but he was vindictive, and the pelting rain was angled towards his backside where unlike her, he didn't have to squint and snort to keep the icy water from getting into his eyes and nostrils.
Asshole, Ida snarled to herself, as if she hadn't been the one to trail him through the grasslands and pounce only when he stood battered and bloody atop a well-earned elk carcass. It had been her own damn fault this was happening, and the sky breaking from an unpleasant drizzle into an autumn downpour was just the cherry on top.
He surged forwards then, snapping blocky fangs inches from her nose as she twisted her aching neck and forced his pincers up and away where his jaws were forced to follow. She was under him now, gnashing her own fangs furiously just short of his throat as her forepaws kicked off the earth and forced their heads even higher. He was forced to follow her lead, rearing onto his own hindlegs and trading heavy blows between them with now freed paws. Ida had no idea how long they'd been grappling like this, only that the rain somehow kept getting even heavier and goddamn, her neck hurt.
Her mistake came then, as the smaller wolf sharply angled his head to the right and dragged their pincers askew. The slick grass finally slipped between Ida's hind paws, and with a roar of panicked fury, she toppled over and dragged her opponent down with her. The earth was steep there, topped with rolling hills and sharp gullies, and the two wolves rolled and bit and clawed in a flurry of fur and chitin as they tumbled down and through the grassland as Ida's vision spun from disorientation and pain.
One moment she felt his pincers wrenched from her grasp, and then she felt jaws wrapping around her throat. She expected him to crunch, and the sensation of her windpipe collapsing just as the elk's had done, but at that moment the earth beneath them slipped and lightning split the darkness. Ida saw a flash of stone, and her vision went black as pain exploded in the back of her skull with a crack that deafened the thunder.
--
Most wolves would not describe Ida as a 'friendly face', but most wolves had never seen Ida in such a peaceful state.
She laid against the trunk of a mighty taiga tree not far from the bubbling springs, massive body slumped and head resting heavily across her broad paws. She slept, not as if knocked unconscious, but instead as if she'd curled for a quiet nap in the snow. The welts and bruises from her battle had vanished, along with the gash that should have split her skull in two. A snore rumbled out from her chest, expression surprisingly serene as autumn daylight dappled across her scarred pelt and dirtied chitin.
Maureen could find her here, laying out in the open so obviously as hot steam puffed from her nostrils and rhythmic snores split the cold, quiet air.