The rabid wolf howled.
Chrystal heard a voice within the stands, and her heart almost broke. Someone in the crowd, somewhere she could not see, had choked out a single word – ‘Mama.’
Another mad wolf followed behind, and then a third, the largest, came from the second tunnel opening.
All three wolves’ eyes glowed with unnatural fury. All red. Their furs were matted with blood and filth. Snarls tore from their throats, foam flecking their mouths as they advanced, yellowed teeth on full display.
Their movements were exceedingly wrong. Like an advanced, extreme version of what Chrystal had noted with the ‘regular’ rogues. Jagged, unpredictable shifts in limbs and direction.
This was what awaited every rogue. This was the form she had been taught. That, before rogues lost themselves to
