Shortbeak eventually smiled down at him as he looked down at the claw to his throat in surprise and impotent rage. He had had her, he had finally had her! After being on the wrong side of the training sessions from the get go, and then spending a full ten minutes dodging and swiping, keeping her at a distance just long enough to feint an opening, she had finally fallen for it. Handy had sidestepped, spun, anticipating where she was going to turn next and struck. The haft of the weighted training spear had come down hard on the arm of her wing, hard enough to hear the wood crack and for Shortbeak to hit the ground hard. Suddenly knocked off balance and the muscles of her left wing deadened, her careening wing had torn the practice spear from Handy’s hands.