As every sense started dimming , the last thing he felt was how something wrapped around his neck, dug into his fur and pulled him with force back to the surface. Before he reached the surface, he had given up, the wolf fell unconscious, limp as a noodle. Hard and rather uneasy, the wolf was pulled on the shore, tossed on the blanket of snow and left to deal with it all by himself, if he managed to do so, if not, that would be the puny end of him. With a last longing look, the monstrous beast watched the wolf lay in the snow before rushing to get away. It was cold, freezing, it could feel the cold creeping into its bones, it needed shelter, and rest. Every beast was by itself now.
Only gods knew for how long, the limp figure of the pitch black wolf laid wet, in the snow. snow started to
