Peirus was not a man to be trifled with at the moment. The Asurn was already a dangerous creature to infuriate, but today - today, let all the mutts and beasts of the land flee before him! Bested by a wench and her mouthy little whelp, then forced away from a perfectly comfortable den by what had turned out to be a family of badgers - as if the things were capable of such bonds.

He had not stopped snarling since he had awakened that morning, his mind immediately focusing again upon his string of humiliations. No, not again; he had yet to cease thinking of them. No, he would keep the Willows pack secured within his memory, and when the day came - and yes, it would come, in a glory of blood and agonized howls - he would be revenged upon them. He would make every last hairball among them suffer for their show of impudence.

He opened his jaws and let out a long, grating snarl as his leg flared beneath him yet again, and the sound was neither of pain or pleasure, but rather some ghastly mix of both. Curse the wench. Curse her brat. Death to them both.

He knew not whether his ears or snout detected the wild boar first, but his maw twisted with relish when he did. Finally. Here was a simple, stupid beast with whose blood he might slake a little of his rage. The squealing would not be as sweet as any sounds put up by a dying mutt, but they would suffice for now. Peirus would attempt to console himself with the snapping of its bones once it had finally perished.

The Asurn towards his paw steps towards the hog, upwind of the hapless creature.

The pig was not nearly so unaware of his presence as the Asurn had initially believed it to be, as the man soon discovered. He did not speak pig, and so the hog's words were lost on him as meaningless drivel - but he understood what it meant when a pig put its head down and came rushing forward. Even in his current rage, Peirus was not so foolish as to stand still and let the beast run him over. He only paused long enough for the pig to pick a direction to run in; it would not be to Peirus' advantage to move first and let the pig lock immediately onto him.

Neither had he missed the sound of another wolf's howl. Someone else was here, and although her voice boded ill for Peirus should he be discovered, the fact that another wolf was present did offer the man a chance to steer two adversaries at each other. That in mind, Peirus darted towards Morganna, eyes on the pig and ears swivelled to keep track of two different moving bodies. He was injured, and so this had the chance of failing badly - he knew that. He relished in the idea; the next creature to grab him would be conveniently in rage for his own teeth and claws.

Peirus was not unaware of the presence of other wolves here. @Sven's scent was nearly as recognizable to the Asurn man as was @Morganna's, though the third wolf was unfamiliar to him. One of their pack mates, assumedly. No matter; he would deal with them after he had dealt with this great brute behind him. The pig had yet to realize it was now barrelling towards two wolves. If Peirus could steer it close enough to Morganna, the resulting collision would hopefully keep the two occupied while Peirus dealt with their two late-coming guests. He had a score to settle with that little white wretch, in particular.

Peirus' pace could not hold out long enough for that, however - his traitorous leg was slowing him down more and more as he ran. The pig was healthier and faster as a result; the Asurn may not be able to steer it away from himself after all. Instead the Asurn man stopped as well as he could and leapt to one side, hoping his momentum was enough to prevent the pig from catching him with those dirty tusks adorning its maw. Fine, Peirus would turn weakness into a different kind of strength. The pauses between each leap out of the beast's range would rest his leg sufficiently to continue steering the creature on - now it was time to see if the pig was equally as graceful.