With the nimbleness of a cat the wolf had gone completely over his back.
The trick had failed, and with a rumble of the dog-snarl in his throat, Kazan reached the wolf in a single bound.

They met breast to breast.
Their fangs clashed and with the whole weight of his body, Kazan flung himself against the wolf's shoulders, cleared his jaws, and struck again for the throat hold.

It was another miss--by a hair's breadth--and before he could recover, the wolf's teeth were buried in the back of his neck.
For the first time in his life Kazan felt the terror and the pain of the death-grip, and with a mighty effort he flung his head a little forward and snapped blindly.

His powerful jaws closed on the wolf's foreleg, close to the body.

There was a cracking of bone and a crunching of flesh, and the circle of waiting wolves grew tense and alert.