Wheeling Gull Isle take what you can, and give nothing back

Her throat was in the others mouth. She knew her life could end in an instant, and surely Goliath would be doing himself and the rest of the world a great favor in doing so. But it seemed The Big Bad had earned a more-than-friend in a high place that gave her the mere opportunity to live at the end of this. It was strange, very strange. She heard the blood humming in her eardrums, felt her adrenaline. There was some shame in her failure. But then she had suffered and done much with little rest in between.

The warm leg of her lover came upon her shoulders. A breath of relief wheezed from her tightly clasped throat; not for the fact that she felt she would live, which she still was unsure of, but for the touch of the other. Wednesday was no snarling mess; the ear left peeled back in defense and deference, for the moment, both. Goliath was the clear winner. He had every right to take her life. But he would pay for it with his, a hefty price.

Perhaps Goliath was the only wolf here she could not win against for his girth and her exhaustion. They were a good match of a fight, but she had been bested and she did not pretend to be greater than she was now that she had lost.