A stabbing pain in her left arm made her gasp. When she looked down, she saw that the wedowyn was flexing its claws so they sank into the meat of her bicep. Next, her right leg was punctured by the cat’s back claws. The time for a decision had come. Biting her lip, Ottílde kept a stranglehold on the knife and, with all her terrified strength, she hurled her body to the side, dislodging the cat enough to scramble from beneath it.

She rolled toward the pool and rose with difficulty, panting and dripping blood. Her face twisted into a snarl almost as ferocious as the sand cat’s.

The wedowyn, smelling blood, became crazed and rushed at her. Knowing she could not escape if the animal knocked her down again, Ottílde ran for the rock shelf to get on higher ground.

As she hauled herself onto the shelf, the cat raked a claw over her right shoulder, tearing through cloth and flesh. Ottílde screamed and pulled away, striking with the knife and landing a hit on the cat’s eye. It roared in pain and rage before it clamped its teeth on her lower left leg and tried to drag her from the rock. Ottílde bit back another scream and stabbed at the cat’s other eye.

A deafening screech answered her stroke as the great jaws loosened her calf. Now blinded, the wedowyn retreated a few steps, growling and hissing in her direction. Ottílde dragged herself up the rest of the way onto the shelf and tried to gather her wits. Both opponents were badly wounded, but Ottílde had lost the most blood and felt a twinge of weakness. Her right arm hung from her mauled shoulder, useless, and the knife in her left hand shook violently. She had one chance to finish the beast and live. Live, that was the command she gave herself now. Live.

The cat, panting in agony, lifted its nose to keep track of her scent. Pursing her lips to keep from shouting, Ottílde removed her shredded vest. She clamped her knife between her teeth, tasting the wedowyn’s blood. With her working arm, she threw the vest to the wedowyn’s left. The cat smelled its prey and heard movement. When it lunged for the vest, Ottílde leapt from the rocks, nearly collapsing on her wounded leg, and rushed the beast.

Hearing an attack from behind, the cat turned and jumped. The two foes met in midair and crashed to the ground. They rolled toward the pool and came to a halt with the wedowyn on top.