John Craig

The first wolf-thing emerged from the darkness as if it had detached from the cavern wall itself. It was tall with long legs, pointed ears that added to its already intimidating height, and teeth that shown a dull white when it opened its mouth. Another followed, a twin of similar size and fearsome aspect. It stepped aside to allow a third to join them. This one tottered on unsteady legs but ran its long tongue over jaws already wet with dark blood. It was the newest acolyte, the recruit they had witnessed being transformed for perhaps the first time. It was unsteady on its feet, still new to the ways of the wolf-men but lethal nonetheless. As it labored to remain upright, Eagle had the impression that the new beast would have been more comfortable on four feet than on two. Had the others not been present, it may have gone to all fours, content to embrace its wolfishness. There was a strange reluctance about the beast when faced with unbound prey. The others appeared to be in no hurry to make the kill, perhaps seeing them as a teaching opportunity for their new member. They seemed fine with drawing out the experience, confident of their cornered quarry's impending doom. Eagle, ever the preceptive and instinctual leader, understood this in seconds. There was a weak link here and the absence of their leader was conspicuous. White Hair clearly didn't think of them as worthy of pursuit. He burned with anger at this realization. They were both among the most powerful of their kind. Eagle seethed, insulted by White Hair's arrogance. They were not practice. They were not to be so casually dismissed. They would in all likelihood die here, but they would go down fighting. In one swift motion, Eagle reached for the hand axe at his hip and threw.