The presence of a new werewolf set all three wolves growling. Their territory, their hunt, and they weren't going to let some stranger ruin their sport. Of course, the idea of fighting instead of chasing set saliva running down their jowls, blood racing and eyes focused. A real hunt. Real blood. Their hearts leaped in joy at the mere thought of it.
Nick, at the head of the trio, roared a challenge to the two-legged wolf. He was trespassing, and as a male and a member of the rightful pack, the alcohol convinced him that he had to fight to protect what was his. Theirs. The property of the pack's. His friends echoed his threat, a chorus of howls and yips at his back. He had the advantage. The pack behind him. And this stranger, whoever he was, would soon regret stepping between a hunter and his prey.