William's grip tightened around the bull's sinewy neck. His fingers screamed with the effort—he could almost hear the tendons straining—but he didn't let go. The beast bellowed so fiercely it made William's ears ring, its hooves pounding the earth, sending up mud and shreds of grass. But William clung on, relentless, like death itself. One last convulsion—then the bull shuddered, foam spilling from its jaws, and dropped. The ground trembled as it drove its hooves deep into the dirt.
For a few beats, William didn't move. He still had his hands around its neck, his breath coming in ragged bursts. When his body finally remembered how to let go, he stumbled back and sank to the ground. Air tore through his lungs; his heart hammered somewhere high in his throat.
He was nearly naked—his clothes had been shredded by horns and claws, what was left hanging in tatters. Steam rose from his skin, thick with the scent of sweat, blood, and rain-soaked earth.
"William!"
