Alec, still on his back, a Wilvox beneath him, allowed his instincts to take over, and as the beast leapt on top of him, he leaned back, raised his boots and put them up protectively over his head. The beast landed on top of them and as it did, Alec shoved with his feet and sent it flying backwards.

It landed several feet away in the snow, buying Alec precious time—and a second chance.

At the same time, Alec felt the beast beneath him wiggle out. It prepared to lunge and as it did, Alec reacted. He spun around quickly, wrapping one arm tightly around its throat in a chokehold, holding it close enough so that it could not bite, and squeezing as hard as he could. The creature struggled like mad in his grip, trying desperately to snap at him, and it took all of Alec’s might to contain it. Somehow, he did. He squeezed tighter and tighter. The beast jerked away, turning and rolling in the snow, and Alec held on and rolled with it.

Out of the corner of his eye Alec spotted another beast charging for his now-exposed back, and he anticipated the feel of fangs sinking into his flesh. He had no time to react, so he did what was counterintuitive: still holding the Wilvox, he rolled onto his back, holding it out in front of him, its back atop his stomach, its legs kicking in the air. The other beast, airborne, landed with his fangs—and instead of finding a target in Alec, the fangs sunk into the exposed belly of the other beast. Alec held on tight, using it as a shield, as it shrieked and squirmed. Finally, he felt it go limp in his arms as its hot blood poured out all over him.

It was a moment both of victory and of profound sadness for him: Alec had never killed a living thing before. He did not hunt, like most of his friends, and he didn’t believe in killing anything. Even though he knew the beast would have surely killed him, it still hurt him to see it die.

Alec suddenly felt a searing pain on his leg and he cried out and looked down to see another Wilvox biting him. He kicked his leg away before the fangs could sink any deeper and immediately jumped into action. He shoved the dead beast off of him, and as another Wilvox lunged for him, he scrambled to think. He felt cold steel pressing into his belly, and he remembered: his dagger. It was small—yet it might be just enough to do the trick. In a final act of desperation, Alec grabbed the dagger, stiffened his arm, and held it out in front of him.