A veteran of battle, he was rarely the one to get worked up and attack first, usually bearing the brunt of others grudges and fighting back with equal force after the first snap had closed. A small bitter smirk painted his handsome face. So this was what it felt like to be on the dealing end? It felt good... He was prepared, and his adversary was not.
The reeds rustled and parted to make way for the silvery giant, but he contributed little more noise than the wind. He was stalking now, hunting. Not for food, but for revenge. The wolf was a coward, it had been shown, but he would not run this time. Finn was a sweet wolf, why would anyone attack her? And finally his target came into sight, there, oblivious. Approaching from the darker wolfs left side, purely by coincidence, his muscles bunched and propelled him through the rushes and reeds, jaws parted to reveal white teeth intent on finding a mark on a chunk of the other wolfs neck or shoulder.</blockquote>