The sloppy swings and misses emboldened Ko-Ga, who swept lower, harsher, and scratched longer with bolstered courage.

Luck had to run out eventually.

The blood-battered wolf caught dark breastfeathers. Only a moment — they ripped loose in a great inky cloud soon stolen by the wind. Ko-Ga's wings fluttered in a panicked sweep as his balance was thrown entire. With a hoarse rolling cry he hit the snow — half-tumbling, have flapping.

The gales were not as eager to carry him as they had been his lost pieces. Still he bid for a distance of some yards. Then spun, all fluffed up with wings spread to shriek profanation at the wolf — but hoping himself far enough way to take flight once his feet settled and escape teeth that bit without mercy.

Or maybe they would be frightened enough by his assault to not risk it!