Overture Downs more than could be chewed

The boy conceded, but not without a dose of what Watcher interpreted as attitude. Her mouth was blessedly full or she might have grit her teeth and shared something of her real thoughts. A stunned lemming had more self-preservation and survival instincts than this guy. Not for the first time, Watcher wondered why she was bothering to help him.

Eventually he would grow up. He would procreate. There would be more imbecilic wolves in the world, out there getting stuck in pockets of deep snow in pursuit of some silly bones, because of her act of kindness today.

Ugh.

When she felt Swift had a firm enough grip, she dug her paws into the snow and threw her weight backward with such force that her hindquarters dipped down. In her head, she envisioned hauling the boy right up out of the snow as though he was feather-light, but this wasn't some Disney movie. For all the smug superiority that Watcher felt when comparing this wolf to a braindead buffalo, she wasn't much older or wiser than he was. She was small for her species. She had plenty of hunting expertise, but that hardly lent her any advantages in the strength department.

Watcher pulled again, feeling something pop uncomfortably in her lower back. Oh, she'd regret that later. Why're you so heavy? she grumbled through a mouthful of splintering wood. She'd regret the slivers in her gums later, too.