Legs were limber. The pain was centered on his face and neck, and though he could feel it everywhere his legs still moved and worked with flexibility. His mangled and distorted face drew back his lips, teeth no longer white but a muted red and covered with just as much of his own blood as that of his enemy. There was no running now, no retreat. It was a fight to the death. The other beast would not back down, it was written in every fiber of his body and spoken in the tone of roar. Minos remained silent, using his breath only to keep himself alive and conscious. His good eye held steady on the male face and waiting for the flinch.
The orange body tensed and so did Minos. The halfling’s form was not as agile as his smaller lupus form but it was stronger, solid and full of meaty muscle that could be pierced and yet still protect the vitals that lived within him. The hybrid’s form was a blur, and Minos leaped to meet the clashing body of the pack male. Teeth bared, claws searching just his opponents. His bulky form heaved into the other beast’s upright body, and Minos felt the claws touch and then sink into the flesh of his shoulders. The pain of his face flushed downward, cascading with a thundering resonance from his bloodied eye and cheek and rested in the deep muscles.
His own teeth clamped down with a painful shock, locking onto anything that he could get a hold of.