Also slight pp! Maybe have them start moving and get to just outside town so the tree can fall and almost kill them? 
art by crypsis
His body worked without cognitive thought. It was as if he were a machine, focused only on the task at hand. Drowned out in the wind and rain he could not hear his thoughts and doubts and more importantly, his fears. Fear would make him hesitate and there was no room for such a thing. This was the life of a warrior—he was not a true fighter, not a man who would raise up arms, but life was war and so all men became warriors in order to live.
So he fought off the stones and dug through until he saw wet fur. Then he was atop him, grabbing him, and with one deep rumbling growl that was lost in the thunder he yanked hard. The force of it drove them back as the mass of rubble that had once formed the roof of Claudius’ den down after them. Anatole slipped in the muddy grass and stumbled. He hit the ground and slid, but rose moments later and groped towards his cousin. “We have to go!” The big wolf screamed, and gestured towards the Hall.
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