The young fox had watched this byplay, thankful that all their attention was on each other, staying still. It looked like they might leave without spotting him, until the crazy wolf threw the corpse off the chariot. If it had only been the body, he'd have let it land on him, but the charioteer was still holding a sword in his hand, and it came down right where he was. It was move or get skewered. He crabbed to the side, the tip barely missing him. He hoped against hope that the attention of the other two was on the nut case, and that no-one had spotted him.<br/><br/>There was no way he could fight any one of them and live, let alone all three, and there was no way even his digigrade legs could give him the speed needed to out-run a dire-wolf. His only hope was to convince them, if they had spotted him, that it wasn't worth attacking him.