Too bad Aaron missed the scene. Nothing moves quite like Darran did. Not as fast or as fierce. Well, other than werewolves that is. Hearing the shouting though, he makes out the words and growls his own curse. Aaron still can't taste anything now that the stinging has faded and he's not even sure he has all his teeth.

Shifting up for what he hopes is the last time, he stumbles into a sprint on two legs. Now Aaron is in full werecoyote. His one hand still doesn't look great, and it's about to look a whole lot worst. Aaron skids to a stop, turns and crouches. Digging the claws of his feet into the ground, he leaps as the hound pounces, landing square on its spine. Using his weight to drive the thing to the ground he turns and tries very hard to ignore the pain as fur, then flesh burns away under his feet. Claws go around the things neck, digging into its throat and he lets out a loud growl as he tears a path up its neck. Waiting until his two clawed hands meet at the back of the neck before grabbing its head with stiffening fingers. Pushing down with his legs, he forces up with all his might. Not nearly as strong as a werewolf, Aaron can still give a power lifter a run for his money in this form. With most of the flesh torn, he rips the head clean off and falls backwards onto the ground.

Laying there on his back, he lets the head roll away. His hands and feet are burned and hideous and right now he just wants the pain to fade. Harsh breathing comes through his scarred muzzle as he lays there.