372 CCCLXXII. The Feral Rush

Beneath the grainy eyes and the incredulous gaze of all present, the figure, who until then had bent over the corpses, stood on two legs, showing himself in all his wickedness.

A giant werewolf, about two meters high, stood among the soldiers, with the blood of their two companions dripping from its long claws and the small fire-red eyes looking around, while the heavy breath came out of its mouth in the form of hot steam, sliding among the sharp canines.

He had his shoulders curved forward and a thick mane, black like his hair that from behind his back ran through his neck, reaching up to his head, where two pointed ears upwards turned autonomously left and right, picking up every sound.

"Take cover! Go!" Sander shouted, raising his shield and running toward the huge black wolf, trying to distract him to allow his men to move away toward the other soldiers.

The wolf turned around to him and with his long arm violently struck the large tower shield.