Fangua galloped through the forest, her tongue lolling, sweat pouring off her flanks. Behind her, she could hear the angry shouts of the villagers. The smell of smoke from their torches was mixed with the sharp smells of hatred and fear. Wolfgang should have let her rip them apart! They were as cattle compared to the beauty of the werewolves!
A break in the trees ahead showed the edge of the gorge, and the thundering of the river far below told Fangua that this was the end of the road. It was time to stand and face the mob, pitiful as they surely were. She would tear their throats out for what they did to Wolfgang!
As the villagers advanced towards her through the trees, Fangua lowered her head and bared her teeth. A low growl was heard only by Lady Pooh Margalotta and Jan Van Igor, who stepped out from the shadows.
“It’s time to give in, Fangua. We can make sure that this is over much more quickly than if the villagers catch you. They’ve seen through your poor disguise as CrysaniaMajere. Visiting diplomat from Genua indeed – who would believe that?”
Fangua lept. Her snarl turned into a whimper as the silver blade flashed down….
What's up with this glass? Excuse me? Excuse me? This is my glass? I don't think so. My glass was full! And it was a bigger glass!