Thunder Dome full circle

It seemed like a decade that two fought; trading blows and blood, the hum of the incoming locusts drowned by snarls. But it had been no more than minutes. The white wolf could feel himself fatiguing fast, and once more he bore the deep, savage gouges of the cat's claws and teeth. Yet, all this time he had managed to keep his feet, and the cat had not succeeded in pinning him nor in throwing him as it had before.

Just when it felt like he would go down, claimed by blood loss and weariness, the cat's throat loomed before him, exposed and inviting. His adrenaline fueled one last hail-mary snap and his aim and his fading power was true. His fangs closed on the windpipe; none of the bites he had inflicted with them before had mattered; but this one would.

His jaws locked.