For a moment things seemed to be working as intended. Etienne kept the tyke quiet at first, and Nate did his best to kite the doe far enough away to avoid noticing what they were about.

But plaintiff bleating as it climbed free turned the doe's ears, and promptly the rest of her. Nate skidded as she charged the wolf who'd finagled her fawn out of the gulch.

Shit. Bolting to catch up, he barked. When that didn't work, he aimed teeth at the white of her tail. Anything to divert her attention from Etienne.

Well, the bite landed.

But so did the retaliatory kick to his jugular that dislodged him with a mouthful of fluff. And the followup flail of foreleg crashing over his ribs and knocking the wind clean out of him, because of course it did.

Wheezing, Nate wrestled unsuccessfully for control of his limbs. Watering eyes watched her race across the green for her fawn.