The wolf's howl had Ezekiel turn, staring at the dark trees with his one good eye narrowed.
Ruelle's crushed wrist throbbed in time with her pulse, and for a moment that pain was the only thing she could think about. She lay there crumpled in the snow.
For a moment there was nothing, but the next moment a silver-black wolf shot out of the treeline.
When the wolf pounced square on Ezekiel's chest, he finally let go of Ruelle's crushed wrist. The impact of the creature was enough to drive the halfling away from her, and the wolf's jaw opened, closing on his shoulder. It was enough to have him scream while he used one hand to push its jaw and the other moved to its chest, his fingers digging in deep.
Blinking back the tears Ruelle noticed the blood on the ground, not knowing if it belonged to Ezekiel or the wolf, she placed her good hand on the ground.
