It wasn’t the snatching of the bag that pushed him off. Not even the speed, intelligence, the fact that he was right about it all being a trap. No, he kept his cool, impressively so he thought, and was about to give up the chase and find a pizza place to take care of his dinner.
But when he heard the click of nails on the hood of his truck…
At first Caleb chuckled, shaking his head. “Ah, I get it, I get it. My mistake, didn’t realize they came in sizes that small,” he said to himself. Finally, he sighed and turned his head to look at the beast ruining the paint on his truck. “Sorry mutt, but you’re really going to regret doing that.”
Before he even finished his sentence, there was a blade in the air whizzing toward the wolf- the werewolf, he corrected himself- and a second blade in his other hand, ready to back up its brother if necessary. It flew toward its target, narrowly missing the head and only skimming off a few hairs instead. The other blade he brought close to his face, ready to throw, but for now it served to make him look nice and intimidating.
“Consider this your first and last warning, mutt,” he told the wolf darkly. “Either you can keep the burger and get the hell off my truck without so much as a hair on it, or I can take you down and drag you to the closest coven to see if they’d like a little mid-afternoon snack. Your call.”