Bearclaw Valley a dove is a glove that i wear on my heart

He had just barely got a grip on the pup when it started to shriek and squirm around. Ridge felt he had a pretty good grip, and didn't need to worry that his intended meal would get away. He didn't care if his punctured or scratched the pup, as it would only help him die faster in Ridge's eyes. He flapped his wings in an effort to get himself off the ground.

Eyes that caught movement to his right just before the growl reached his ears. The wolf was too close for Ridge to think he could get away unscathed and with his meal. If he wanted his feathers, he'd have to give the meal up since it was only weighing him down. He was only a foot or two above the ground, and he twisted to toss the pup at the wolf in hopes of distracting the male long enough for him to get away. It wasn't a strong toss, as Ridge wasn't skilled in throwing his meals, but hopefully he would land just in front of the wolf trying to save him. He pumped his wings in an attempt to get off the ground, his talons preparing to defend himself from the savior wolf.