listen don't panic
#13
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     And there it was. Gabriel heard the threat, perceived it, and all of his mother’s training washed through his skull. The talent she had seen in him, the same talent the coyotes, the war-mongers, and his father had seen, it had been crafted through her hands and through war. Four wars, now. The hybrid was barely aware that he was potentially striking a fifth as the spring in his spine coiled and tensed.
     Without a sound, he rushed forward. Gabriel moved with a speed that did not match his build, teeth flashing. He sought the open hand, the closest point for him to grab. Even if he failed at closing his mouth around this his body was a freight-train; it would barrel into the brown wolf regardless, and seek to knock him down to earth, and to his level. Something had to break. Something had to serve their collective need to dominate.

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