Predators and prey always lurked in forests, sometimes slipping by quite close without making themselves or their intentions known. The heavy scent of wolf and bear covered the ancient forest, interspersed with lynx and wolverine, deer and hare, and every other creature that thrived in a forest. Crossing the recent tracks of a moose, Mauja thought nothing of the beat of wings, thinking of bats and owls, feeling the quiet contentment of Irma far, far above, where she didn't see the shadows mobilizing, nor hear the beat of their hearts and the hushed rush of their breaths. The white stallion stood before his tree, captivated, brushing his soft muzzle across the coarse, scarred bark. His ears flickered, hearing the pad of paws, his nose feeling the smell of wolf, but aside from a wary gaze into the shadows, he did not stir. They would be on their way, to find easier prey.

How wrong he was.

The shadows solidified, and took the shape of a great wolf, each gray and russet hair tinged silver by moonlight and his eyes nothing but faded fires in the night. Simultaneously a dull voice slipped from its fanged mouth, and Mauja thought, how does he know my name?. "Who are-" the great King said, but then the wolf leaped, and chaos descended. The beast was larger than himself, taller, thicker (or was that just the fur?), but he had teeth and claws Mauja did not possess. A shrill, surprised whinny escaped him as he threw his head up and out the way, rising up on his haunches into a half-rear of surprise. Such a foolish, instinctual way to protect oneself from a wolf your own size. Cold roiled in his belly and darkness claimed his veins and his mind. The earth trembled, and as the wolf's shadow was cast across him, the ice spike thrummed up from the deeps and shot into the world, cold and deadly, but ultimately nothing but a reflex, to protect himself and spear his opponent.

And the next moment, even as he prepared to scramble sideways to the right, the great weight of the beast-wolf collided with his left shoulder. Angling in from above it knocked his weight off-center, and poised upon his hind legs as he were he had no chance to catch himself. With the wolf across him, Mauja hit the soft ground hip-first with a thud, a dull ache spreading through his right thigh and shoulder as he fell down, the smell of predator up in his nose and the image of Osiris mid-leap, dark and terrible with fangs snapping for Mauja's eyes, engraved upon his mind.

On rapid wings Irma flew through the sky, her little heart beating fast, fast, but she was too far away yet to save him from the wolves.