The small shadow that leapt out. The dead wolves lying on the ground. And the frozen stares of the surviving men.

The object of their gazes was not the person to whom they owed their lives...it was her beast-like eyes, her blood-soaked claws, the small, black wings poking out from her half-eaten clothing.

The object of their gazes was not the person to whom they owed their lives...it was her beast-like eyes, her blood-soaked claws, the small, black wings poking out from her half-eaten clothing.