Death on all sides

A cool breeze flows under my wings.

The cold bites at my blinking eyes.

The wind sings in my ears.

The sound makes my head spin.

I must hide form the coming storm, but a

Bears den is my only choice.

He chimes to me in a sweet voice, “Come on in.”

But what awaits me in his den?

Claws to rip my flesh, a tongue to drink

My blood?

But what of the storm?

Razor hail to clip my wings, cold to

Freeze my blood?

Is there anyway to win?