"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" Sam's voice was quiet, almost inaudible above the splat of sleet on the slushy ground. Mina made no reply. Instead she cleaned her sword. Again and again. She swore the blade was tarnished after being coated in the black ooze from the mud man and the blood of the werewolf. It gleamed when she held it up to the streetlamp, but she still wasn't satisfied.
Seema stalked past Sam, over to the spot on the ground where the werewolf had been, bones now. Her fingers tapped a discordant rhythm on her thigh. She strode back to Mina. Mina concentrated on her sword for a few seconds longer before finally raising her eyes to look at Seema, ignoring Sam. The cold had raised red blotches on the woman's cheeks and the end of her nose. Mina's eyes teared in the wind that had rise
