“Go ahead. I know you’ve hungered after my flesh your whole life.”
The old wolf sat only inches from Buffalo’s throat, but only licked the festering wound on her hip. With one golden eye and the other silvery blue, she studied his face. A jagged white stripe decorated his brow.
“You’re old and stringy now, too tough for my teeth. A calf would be easier to chew.”
Buffalo stifled a laugh. “There’ll be none until spring. You’ll have to make do with me. I’m too tired to fight anymore, easy game. One of us at least should live.”
“Well it won’t be me. I no longer have the strength to bite your shaggy hide. Even my pack has left me for dead.”
“Perhaps Bear will put us both out of our misery.”
“Bear sleeps. Even Crow hides from this blustery snow, warm in his roost.”
“Then let me die in peace.”
“Humph. Peace. You think I don’t wish for such a thing. I’m cold and tired. Death claws both our hides.”
“Rest with me. Perhaps some good will come of this end.”
Wolf curled up against Buffalo and closed her eyes. Content, their spirits leaped for the sky together. Snow soon hid their bodies.
“What odd looking hatchlings we have this spring,” said Mother Hawk.
Father Hawk studied the two chicks. One had a strange white stripe across his face; the other had one silvery blue eye. They snuggled against each other as if winter clawed at them.