No probs!
The silver-furred coyote was beyond rage, beyond feeling—there was dull, thudding pain in her hindquarter, but it mattered little to her. All around the battle roared and screamed, and the hybrid saw none of it—her single glaring eye was focused entirely on the other wolf, and she charged forward to meet him as he reared up, drawing back on her hindquarters to meet him there. But he was too big, too heavy—she was falling back beneath the flurry of claws and fangs, staggering back on her hindquarters as he nicked her chest and her face. Out of nowhere, the scarred and blurred form of Frankie sailed through the air, leaping from the ground and right toward the other wolf's chest. His little coyote paws were outstretched for the other man's throat, a snarl that was almost like a grin plastered onto his fanatic face. The silvery hybrid took this as her chance and leapt back to recover herself for a moment, drawing away from the pair to regain herself, her yellow-gold eye focused on the pair of males all the while, waiting for the moment to strike.
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