A heavy wolf smell hit my nose, and I wanted to whine, squeal like a puppy, cowardly tucking its tail. But Kursky restrained himself, clenched his teeth, and boldly looked into the eyes of his opponent. He stood just huge, barely restraining himself from treatment. It even seemed to Artyom that Petrov was simply hanging over him, even though Kursky himself, by human nature, is not at all small.

The beast that was sitting inside had been rushing out for a long time, and therefore accepted the game. Fingers became habitually hooked, the head drooped a little, and the back bent, but not from respect for the enemy, absolutely not...