The members of the Red Moon pack cried out in anger at the grotesque, wretched appearance of the rogue's wolf.
But could one still speak of a wolf in the face of the mutilated and scarred body of the creature that stood before Harry?
This wolf's fur must once have been gray. Now, where there should have been a thick, dense coat, there was only a mass of oozing, rotting flesh.
The tip of his right ear had been torn off. Clearly, the wolf's gift of regeneration had failed him, as putrid juices leaked from it to form a foul crust along his neck.
The creature's eyes were devoid of any light of life, and it gazed defiantly at the Alpha.
The wolf's revolting smell was proof of its decay and lone wolf status.
Harry felt bile rise to his throat at the appearance of this lurker who had dared
