Quote Witchety Grub:<br/>Draekin sees the Manâ€™s spear, recognising the danger it represents. But the Spirit within him is rage and fire, not to be reasoned with or turned aside. The Wolf has eyes only for the kneeling Mystic, and the Man who stands above her, his hands knotted in her hood.<br/><br/>Jaws wide, Draekin leaps onto the Man holding Kiitani, the Mystic knocked roughly to the ground by the impact. The Wolfâ€™s jaws close around the Manâ€™s face, muffling his scream of terror as his face is torn from his skull. The other Man, with the presence of mind that will come to typify his race, advances on the conflict and drives his spear hard into Draekinâ€™s side, the stone head wedging between the Alphaâ€™s ribs. Draekin howls in pain, rounding violently on his attacker, ripping the spear from the Manâ€™s hand. Draekin lashes out with a paw, connecting heavily, and tossing the Man aside like a rag doll.<br/><br/>Blood dripping from tooth and claw, the Wolf spins in a circle, searching for more adversaries. The spear grinds against his bones as he moves, and he lets loose a howl of pain and anger, his own blood mingling on the grass with that of the Men.<br/><br/>The fire capers and dances behind him, and he stands as a silhouette, proud and strong, the spear protruding from his side as if forgotten. All around is strangely quiet; the people of the Nation have now either fallen or escaped the Men, and the Men themselves, their raid beaten back, now flee towards the edge of the camp, where Raissa waits, hidden.