My wolf growls, the tone menacing and yet, somehow encouraging, and he crowds her, urging her on until she staggers to her wobbling legs and starts trotting across the field, away from the massacre by the cargo container. He’s herding her. She stumbles, and he’s there by her left haunch, growling and prodding her onwards, the fucking crushed skull stuck in his maw like an apple in a roasted pig’s mouth.
