One second the feral was crouched in the shadows; the next he was flying at us—at me—with fangs bared and claws ready to rip. There was no time to dodge: he was on me before I could react and we went down in a riot of barks and snapping jaws. Like I’d known when we first met, the feral was heaver and stronger than me and it wasn’t long before I found myself trapped beneath him, the soft flesh of my throat and belly exposed to him. He raked his claws across my belly and the coppery smell of blood flooded the night. I strained my neck to snap at him and caught his ear more by chance than design. I clamped down and yanked, ripping part of the ear away. He howled and rolled off me, giving me space to get to my feet again. Glenn darted in then, catching the feral’s tail and biting down hard. At the same time I went for his throat, getting a mouthful of fur for my trouble. The feral whipped back and forth, trying to fend me and Glenn off. We danced around him, taking turns to lunge and snap at him.
