Word Count → 332 NPC 3 has been killed. Also Wayne is mad. :|
Clawed fingers dug into the earth as the Labrador mongrel lifted his head, his dark lips still wrinkled back in defiance. His shoulder ached as he tried to push himself to his feet, and so he collapsed momentarily. Only the pregnant but furious paint mare stood between him and the club-swinging raider, at least until the cries from his other pack mates announced that he was not alone in combat.
Above voices distorted with howls and snarls was Dixie-May’s voice, and the cowboy jerked his head up to see the little white female riding on giant Vito, hell written in her fine features as she galloped forward on the behemoth. A rope sailed over his head, and with a growl of triumph, he managed to lurch onto two feet again—but the fight had moved, and Dixie was leaping at the wolf. The petite Samoyed mix pummeled the fallen foe, but the raider’s winded state did not last for long. His hand lifted, and struck, and Wayne stared in horror as the woman was thrown.
“Dix!”
A guttural roar left the wolf hybrid, accompanied by a shriek of anger from Gypsy. The thief that had almost laughed at his meager victory now screamed—a dagger struck him as the red-haired Verita raced past, and then horse hooves shattered his leg. The mare snorted as she reared and trampled again, backing away only when Wayne lunged forward—in his bulky secui shape this time.
Monstrous jaws latched around the raider’s arm, but the club rained down on him again, striking his bristling neck and shoulders. The Labrador stifled a yelp in the wolf’s fur, biting down harder then releasing his grip—only to fasten it this time around the wolf’s throat. There was a gasp near his ear, but his teeth closed, and he heard the crunch of trachea. The coppery taste of blood filled his mouth, and the jerking body stilled underneath his muscular weight, but the male did not let go.
Like you’re John Wayne’s son
But things can change fast
I could kick your ass
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