When the red-haired coywolf grinned that terrible grin, Skoll realized that he was probably insane and just as dangerous as he was threatening. His ears snapped back again, his wrinkled muzzle showing fear rather than aggression as he tried to step away from the borders, but he wasn’t fast enough. The Infernian lunged for him, swiping at his chest and clawing out a loose tuft of fur there. Skoll could feel his flesh sting from where the claws scraped the skin, and if he looked down he knew he’d see a thin line of blood running downward. But he wouldn’t dare look down, instead keeping his green eyes locked on the threat as he backed away, a sharp growl leaving him.
Other than that last defensive noise, however, the yellow wolfdog spoke no more. He turned tail and ran, feeling like a coward but also realizing that the other man could easily chase him down and beat him into a pulp. The coyotes here were crazy.
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