Great Bear Wilderness Precious and Fragile Things

Evidently, physics did not exist to this wolf, and his sense of smell was nonexistent. For her borders by now were unquestionably there; not a simple straight line, but all around them. Tonravik was a woman who gained her proportions from Mackenzie Valley Wolves, and Northern Rocky Mountain wolves as well. Her height and weight were great, for a female and for a wolf alike. If it was not her size that would move him, surely it would be the momentum she brought with her from her galloping descent; for he was not a true wall, and not immovable on those legs. She slammed into him, certain that she would bruise from this; but he did not move, except to try and crawl atop her.

As he lifted himself up, Tonravik kept her front to him; it would not make sense for him to be anywhere near her rear as she had attacked him from the front. Her jaws met flesh for but a moment (assuming her attack hit given it was not mentioned at all), but she saw a far better opportunity as he presented his throat to her as though inviting her to take a bite. Tonravik spreads her weight evenly as her height and his proximity enables her to attempt to reach for the bottom portion of his throat, unprotected and free for the taking. Her fangs ache to dig in. As he pushes his weight, Tonravik pushes back with just as much force, knowing he only had his two hind-legs for balance. If he could stumble, and if Dovev could reach for one of those hind-legs, surely he could crush one of the two between his jaws.

Or, the man could run and escape his inevitable fate. Tonravik would kill him if she was given the true chance to, which—given his throat being so close—was becoming more of a possibility by the second. His weight is leaning against her own, and she supports him, only to attempt to tear into that throat. Her own lobes, which had been thrust forward in a show of aggression, cupped against her head to protect themselves; and her eyes, too, remained narrowed as she moves.