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	One can never be too careful when dealing with unfamiliar forms of life. What might at first appear to be a cute little bundle of sleeping joy can - in response to as little as a wave of a hand and a few short words - quickly turn that bundle of joy into a formidable savage beast that screams like a demon unleashed from hell. 

Jack launched himself backward shielding his face with one arm against the sudden frenzy of gnashing teeth, beating wings and slashing claws. Before he knew it he was down, face to the ground, hand grasping protectively to the back of his head while the other hand groped desperately for his gun. Never in his life had he felt in such mortal danger over a creature so small and feathery. He felt the skin of his shielding hand being shredded by its claws, small yet powerful talon-like feet sinking into the flesh of his shoulder, and a bitter freeze of air pouring over his neck and head as he drew the gun from his belt, propped his elbow on the ground to aim the weapon at the sky, and then squeezed the trigger. The thunderous crack of gunfire cascaded through the forest and across the land, leaving in its wake a silence that made Jack instantly groan with regret. 

‘Well that sucks a great deal,’ he said, lifting his head to take a cautious look around. Concluding a moment of wait, he pushed up and sat back on his heels to better survey the area and ensure the little beast had truly fled. His hand was bleeding from cat-like claw marks, his shoulder was throbbing, his favourite leather jacket was torn, and the skin of his neck was beginning to thaw from whatever had started to turn it into a hide of ice. But the little terror of a beast was gone and, more importantly, it had not returned to sleep on his duffel bag. 

Unfortunately, aside from the personal damage and a stinky little deposit the creature had left on his bag, every soul within a good distance would have heard the gun fire.