The teeth ripped, shredding the skin and partial muscle. It was excruciating and his mind grew black and blank as he stumbled over the ground. The coyote was no longer beneath him, his teeth freed from Mino's shoulder yet only by the brutal onslaught of his shaking motion. Minos found his footing, but the pressure of both paws holding his full weight on the injured side of his body was too much for him to manage. He leaned away from the inflamed wound, trying to get away from every ounce of hurt. It followed him, but his shifted weight made a significant difference. The other was wavering as well, but his movements were still quick and agile. Minos stood his ground, a snarl fueled by the pain accenting his face. The blood dressed his muzzle along side the raised and wrinkled lips, teeth and mouth coated.
His shoulder hurt too much for him to advance. And he would only give the appearance that he was still fit enough to fight in the hopes that the other would back down and run. He growled, snapping his jaws but did not move from the solid position that he held, unsure if he would stumble or not.