In that moment, if Gray Wolf could have been there, she might have said to Baree: "Use your legs--and run!" And Oohoomisew, the old owl, might have said to Papayuchisew: "You little fool--use your wings and fly!" They did neither--and the fight began.
Papayuchisew started it, and with a single wild yelp Baree went back in a heap, the owlet's beak fastened like a red-hot vise in the soft flesh at the end of his nose.

That one yelp of surprise and pain was Baree's first and last cry in the fight.

The wolf surged in him; rage and the desire to kill possessed him.

As Papayuchisew hung on, he made a curious hissing sound; and as Baree rolled and gnashed his teeth and fought to free himself from that amazing grip on his nose, fierce little snarls rose out of his throat.
For fully a minute Baree had no use of his jaws.

Then, by accident, he wedged Papayuchisew in a crotch of a low ground shrub, and a bit of his nose gave way.