Running, Doza had glanced back at the confused Consumer just for a second in hope that he'd bowled it over, but no such luck. Upon looking forward it seemed many furs had gathered in and around the dimly lit doorway. Suspicious, the wolf ducked aside, confused.
'Where'd they all come from?' He asked himself mentally, huffing slightly through his nose, he'd not seen a group like this in....had it been six months? A large group of furs, much like this, seven or eight of them in fact. Doza had approached them in hopes of opening up a trade, instead they beat the crap out of him, stolen his stock and pushed him out a fourth story window into a refuse heap, thinking him dead. He'd have cut his losses, run away to start over, but they'd stolen his knife.
Doza rubbed a fore-paw over the scar on his muzzle, memories of that night rarely surfaced outside of his nightmares, and he shook himself just as a feral would. Relaxing the deathgrip he'd not known he was inflicting on poor Throatseeker, Doza watched the door slam and he waited patiently. A Consumer (his?) shambled by, apparently unable to smell him, Doza held his breath.
After what seemed like forever, a noise caught the hiding fur's attention, a motor? He swiveled his head, perking his ears, trying to get a fix on the noise. Suddenly there came a loud bang, followed by gunshots...only a few at first, then clusters. Rifle?
The door hiding the group of furs and the human woman bangs open, causing Doza to jerk his gaze back in that direction. The group could only be described as a rescue team, motley for sure but determined looking. Raiders and looters rarely bother saving anyone, even their own members. With a small grin, a short but welcome burst of adrenaline, and the 'snick' of his knife leaving it's sheath, the wolf quietly moves hidden alongside the group as they move towards the noise.