What it did was strike the wolf dead center between the eyes.
He expected the hammer to spin and was sure it would sail over the animal’s head—he had pitched at Lincoln Park High School about a thousand years ago and still knew the feeling of one that was going to be wild-high—but it didn’t. It was no Excalibur, just a plain old Craftsman hammer with a perforated rubber sleeve on it to improve the grip, but it didn’t turn over and it didn’t go high.
What it did was strike the wolf dead center between the eyes.
