Smoke filled his lungs, stinging his nose and burning his chest. Yet the wolf was propelled by duty, loyalty that ran so deep that it was laced in his rivers of blood that pounded through his heart. The fighting was all around, the sound of the blaze almost drowning out the sound of one snarling collision after another. But the blood could not be masked. The heavy musk of coyote nor the palatable smoke could cover the metallic tinge that their noses were so equip to scent and drawn to find.
There was no sound made by the creature he charged, hardly a shift in his features as the coyote. The leaner frame moved away from his first assault, teeth aiming for the ever tender throat. He yearned for blood, a lust covering his eyes and searching for the nearest piece of flesh to sink lightly yellowed teeth into. He leaned back, a single momentary shift in order to propel himself faster and harder into the smaller canine. Mouth wide was the only way he knew to fight, his days of submissive roll overs showing him there was no other way to intimidate or kill. A throaty growl sounded his intention, lethal jaws aiming for the soft meat of his opponent's side.