(316) Salvia can be wounded on her left hind leg, right foreleg, and her ear can be notched. Light wounds are okay; she's in her Secui form and her pelt is equally thick, so no serious damage elsewhere would occur. Her attack is focused on Terra so Gunnar can focus on Es.
As a note, Sirius has howled to announce the other attack. Salvia's "roar" is similar to the sound he produced, so the pack would have heard it.

Salvia often was to be found around the horses; before dawn, especially. She fed them the blend of gathered grass and dried fruits and nuts that kept them fat during winter. Some were given more attention than others; Horse was beginning to show, and she was fairly certain the skinnier mares would as well. They would be able to eat before she took the sheep out, which would be done once they too had been looked over. As she groomed Misty, untangling her tail, the horse lifted her head sharply. While she did not make a sound, the fear-scent began to billow from her—and her feet shifted irritably. The girl rose and above the strong scent of horses found the source of her concern; wolf. Wolf not of Salsola.

The blonde slipped out of the stall, still hidden within the confines of the barn. She rose her dark nose, nostrils flaring, and confirmed two strangers. Fury boiled into her blood. A fire began to course through her veins, and this fire rolled through her body and changed her. A sleek body grew compact, heavy, and she fell to all fours. Muscles grew immeasurably; her hair darkened severely, black spilling out along her shoulders and down the length of her back. Ears rose to a sharp grown. Green eyes sharpened, pupils dilating as they would if she hunted prey; her claws extended into the compact earth of the barn.

There was no warning because there was no time. Salvia flew out of the barn, rushing towards the yet unknown assailants. A bellowing roar escaped her, a sound not unlike the one that echoed through the land, and the two-hundred pound tiger found them. She threw herself towards the skinny, coyote-looking woman. Bared teeth snapped wildly. By weight alone she sought to overwhelm her, though the momentum and speed of this attack would be hard to avoid.

Tlantli is by Nat!

The pale coyote awoke long before the dawn, as was her custom. The pale, purplish light of pre-dawn streaming in through her windows roused her, and the coyote inhaled deeply the sweet fragrance of an awakening earth, all of it preparing to come alive with the first touch of sunlight. Her own quarters smelled faintly of wine, but Miqui had departed before Tlantli had fallen asleep the previous night, stumbling back to his own quarters. The yellowish coyote had started spending the occasional evening with her brother once again. Tlantli was delighted to find the presence of others no longer grated on her every nerve; she could enjoy the company of those she'd once loved -- even Miqui, even if he had seemed to turn toward Salsola with a truer heart than her own.

Tlantli sat on the open second floor of her tower, looking to the east and awaiting the dawn. There was strange restlessness in this one, and Tlantli peered around nervously, sniffing the air. She smelled nothing, but a moment later, a vast sound filled the air -- a howl of alarm. She stood on both feet then, teeth bared. There was a sound of running feet, and Miqui's red eyes peered up at her, filled with anger. He barked a question and Tlantli snapped her answer, both delivered in rapid Spanish. The yellow woman did not bother to take the stairs; rather, she leapt the short distance to the ground, and she and Miqui flew toward the sounds of the second alarm, a deeper roar that sounded more like a cougar's scream than a wolf's howl. With the sound, the yellowed coyote ran faster, outpacing her brother easily. Miqui kept up, but barely -- he lagged several feet behind Tlantli, though the dust-colored coyote did not call for his sister to wait.

Tlantli shifted even as she ran, dropping into her four-legged Secui form with only a slowing of pace rather than an entire cessation of movement. She was not so large as some Secui, but she moved with confidence and strange masculinity even in this form, darting toward the noise as the strange scents grew. Tlantli and Miqui, still in his two-legged form, arrived on the scene as Salvia charged from the barn. Tlantli had stopped running upon drawing close to the barn, moving instead at a quick trot; she now ceased forward movement entirely, waiting to see where she would be most useful. Her mind did not question what was going on; she recognized foreigners, and foreigners on Salsola's soil. Miqui charged past her, not waiting a moment before tossing himself into the fray. The dusky coyote moved toward the barn, and Tlantli saw he sought to cut the big black wolf off before he reached the stables.

Salvia seemed to have two wolves to grapple with, so the coyote moved toward her, edging in toward the larger of the pair, also a large dark wolf. She sought to separate him from his smaller coyote fellow, thinking the female would be easy work for Salvia. The coyote bared her teeth, razored and filed as they were, and growled menacingly as she stepped toward him, head down and crimson eyes blazing.

PP of Salvia grabbing Terra's leg, Bria, in order to stop her from reaching the barn. We can have them engage now; if you don't mind we could have them go a few rounds before Terra breaks away?
I figure we can do the same for everyone--don't want to drag this out too long.

The coyote managed to avoid her attack, and while the speed and power behind it carried Salvia past her, it was a fleeting thing. Salvia dug her forepaws into the ground and wheeled. Tlanti engaged with the dark wolf, and she spotted Miqui moving to the third member of their party. A darker shadow loomed elsewhere, but her mind was focused on one thing entirely. She would not allow anyone, least of all a coyote, touch their horses.

Salvia thundered after the coyote and threw her head forward. She bit down on the woman’s leg, shaking her head savagely. If she could cripple her the fight would end before too long. The horses, aware of the commotion, began to whinny with fright. Dark tipped ears flared back as she clamped down, intent on breaking the bone within the girl’s hind leg. Who were these people, and why had they come here? Their scents were of various packs, all of which she did not recognize…save one, though it was fleeting and now overwhelmed by the fear-scent of the horses and the wet earth torn up below.

(509)

The dark canine she'd picked for her target gave her a cool look, and the woman returned it, lips and muzzle writhing with her snarl. Her tongue lashed out a few times, frothy spittle foaming at the corners of her mouth. Already, it was faintly pink with the woman's own blood -- though she was careful with her mouth's movements, small cuts from her teeth here and there could not be helped.

Tlantli had learned to fight by scrapping in the streets, tousling with her brothers. Her background included little formal training, but her prior fights had been in her own defense, or the defense of her siblings: she remembered the cougar, and how Miqui had killed it. The cat should have been hers, but it was no matter -- Miqui had received the worst of the feline's blows, as well as the glory. He could have it -- this glory was to be hers.

He charged her, and with little warning swept low toward her feet. The coyote was knocked off of her balance, rolling over twice in the direction he'd shoved her before she stopped herself, righting herself onto her stomach and then onto all fours again. She darted back toward him, snapping her jaws as she drew near and reaching out with a clawed foreleg to swipe at his, unmindful of the shallow wounds his initial strike had caused. Her arms were laced with old scars, remnants of the Zacatapayoli ritual.

Miqui had not seen the dark woman, the slave of Salvia. His red eyes did not perceive her even until she was on top of his initial target, the male with the arrows. Seeing his hand was unnecessary, the tall man stood a moment, swinging his head from one combatant to another. Each of the invaders was occupied, at least for the moment, and none of his Family seemed in any dire need of assistance. The male took several long strides toward the barn, taking care to give Salvia and her opponent a wide berth. Perhaps there was a particularly thick beam of wood or even a pitchfork he might use -- a long weapon to poke would be good.

The coyote loped into the barn, smelling the fear of the horses. He did not sooth them with words, for his voice was not one of particularly calming tones. Instead, the male's dark red eyes swept the innards of the barn, narrowing as he saw nothing of use. Whirling, Miqui stood in the yawning entrance to the building, readying himself should any of his Family require him to aid them. He saw his sister roll, Salvia engaging the smallest and seemingly quickest of the invaders. Miqui's lip raised in a snarl, but he made no move forward. If the slave died defending Salsola, all the better. No part of Miqui balked at being set to the side for the women to do the killing -- it was as it was in Eterne. He would not keep his sisters from their glory and blood.

Harp, there was a typo in my last post... >_> "ber." I am surprised at how often this happens. GO PROOFREADING, GO! Also, uh, if this gets exceptionally messy with the different fights going on, we can always split them off into separate threads, jaja? c:

The wolf was fast, and his technique was more refined than Tlantli's, certainly -- but she had yet to set her best weapon on him. Her teeth had yet to sink into flesh or flare across it, and the big wolf leapt to avoid her snapping teeth and slashing claws. He reared on his hind legs and Tlantli's swipe clawed through air rather than soft flesh. She did not seek to stop her charge once her attack missed; instead, the flaxen head snapped to the side and Tlantli presented her shoulder with her charge, hoping to knock into his ribs and knock him off balance -- then she might bring her teeth into play. She felt his claws tear through her side even then; though his swipe at her face had not hit its target, it still hit, and his claws raked along her ribs, painful fire searing along her side.

The swarthy coyote's vision swept the yard, looking for a weapon still. There were no pitchforks within easy reach, and he would have had to wrest a beam from the barn itself to arm himself in that manner. However -- there were rocks, as Salsola's soil was the stony, thin dirt of the coast. Some were impossibly large boulders, glacial erratics drawn to their resting spots upon massive chariots of ice. The rocks of interest to Miqui were considerably smaller, though, and he bent to scoop a few of the small stones, winding his arm and pitching them at the opposing fighters. As he was careful to aim his strikes as to avoid hitting his fellow Salsolians, he could not whip them at the speed or in the quantity he desired, but still, they flew through the air, his makeshift arrows.

The coyote pulled free and Salvia tasted blood in her mouth. She was singularly focused now; bloodlust did not fuel her as it did the others. Salvia was a creature who subscribed to the simplistic ways of the world, and among them, self-control was key. There was a reason for this attack and a purpose to it; why would strangers come if not for this? The horses did not seem like a fair reason to attack a pack head-on, especially when she could smell them on the others, but then why…

She did not have time to consider further. The coyote circled her and Salvia mimicked this, her pale form bristling and head low. Another wound to a leg would cripple her. Salvia would not kill the woman outright if she could help it, believing that there was a deeper cause behind this and one that could be found by breaking the will of a captive. Her tail lashed behind her, black tipped as the blanket of sable-brushed fur along her shoulders.

The attack was a pattern that Salvia recognized easily. She had trained enough to understand the behavior; thus the fake was seen through for the way the coyote dropped her eyes to the throat. With a snarl, Salvia lowered her head and rushed toward. She threw her head low, attempting to bull-rush and flip her opponent bodily as all two-hundred pounds of her would allow.

Again, she missed, and again she wheeled. The snapping teeth clicked in open air and Salvia rushed again. There was very little distance for the coyote to maneuver and the wolf saw this as her weapon. With size alone her secui form could crush the girl, and oh she would. The coyote girl was a step ahead of her but Salvia saw her intended route. With a sharp bark of command, she cut a wide angle and gave birth to Miqui. If the coyote wished to run into danger so be it.

This circle took her wide, bringing her around to the side of the fray. From here Salvia rushed, low and fast, at the side of the coyote. Ready for her to move, she was prepared to follow suit and take her down. There would be no time to dodge, and her intention was to fully cripple her, either by leg or by shattering a rib with her weight. A singular blow could do such a thing, especially on such a small opponent. Green eyes blazed, all too clear of the battle-fury of her father.