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. Fear raced through him like a hot river. He shoved his
chin tight to his chest and locked his hands behind his head,
protecting his neck and throat. The wolf's hot breath,
stinking of its last kill, gagged him. Powerful jaws
snapping, unable to reach his neck or throat, the wolf
fastened on his shoulder, worrying at the thick cloth of his
cloak, tearing through it and his leather tunic to lay his flesh
bare to dripping fangs. Its eyes were gleaming green fire, its
mouth a roaring crimson maw.
Bucking and kicking, his mind empty of all thought but
survival, Tanis heaved onto his back. His head still low, he
freed his hands and found his dagger. The wolf rose up,
scrambling to regain position, belly exposed for an instant.
Tanis gripped his dagger hard. The icy air stung in his
lungs. He thrust upward with all his strength. The blade
drove into the wolf's belly to the hilt. Gasping hard, he
dragged until he struck breastbone. The beast fell away,
dead as it hit the snow.
Shuddering, locked for one painful moment in the rictus
of fear, Tanis lay on his back. Sweat froze on his face,
nausea churned in his belly. His breath, ragged and hurting,
sounded like the pumping of a bellows. Dark blood pooled,
steaming in the freezing night
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