Of Moose and Men

Kolt snarled as he darted away from the moose's flailing hooves, blood dripping from his muzzle. The metallic taste only fueled his determination. He could hear Ballad's growls as his brother harried the beast from the other side, nipping at its flanks. The moose spun, trying to keep both wolves in sight, its eyes rolling wildly.

But they were wearing it down. Kolt could see the heaving of its sides, the froth beginning to form around its mouth. They just needed to keep up the pressure, keep it off balance. He feinted to the left, drawing the moose's attention, then lunged right, his teeth finding purchase on its neck. The moose bellowed, rearing up on its hind legs. Kolt hung on grimly, his jaws locked, even as he felt his paws leave the ground.

Then, with a mighty shake of its head, the moose flung Kolt aside. He hit the ground hard, the breath knocked from his lungs and only vaguely aware of crashing through the undergrowth that indicated the Moose’s attempt to flee. He couldn’t say that he had any objections.

"Kolt Carpathius"