Third Person.
One warrior was flung several feet into the dirt, while another rolled to his feet, growling, blood smeared across his ribs.
There was no warning. No howl of challenge. Just an ambush.
A second later, instinct took over.
Several warriors shifted on the spot, their bones cracking and bodies stretching in violent transitions. The air rippled with raw power as they tore from their skin into fur and fangs, launching back at the attackers. Dust lifted in angry clouds. Claws met claws. Teeth scraped against hardened muscle.
The black wolf—larger, with sharper movements—danced through attacks like wind cutting through leaves. It slammed its paw into a silver-coated wolf, sending it rolling. A moment later, the black wolf leapt onto another, driving it to the ground before vanishing into the crowd.
