Mystic lobo

Muscles tightened. Claws raked over furred skin. Teeth bit into shoulders, legs, and throats. It was a battle. A battle for survival.

Survival of the fittest.
Young vs old.

Blood covered the ground under their pads. Each had their heads hung low to the ground. Eyes pinned to eachother. The older stood ready for his young opponent to make his attack. Instead the young one threw back his ears against his blood spattered head, and let out a ferocious snarl before bending its head down to lick at a wound on its fore front left leg. He took his eyes off his older opponent.

The old lobo knew from many...