Snippet #1722462

It seems there had been plenty of time for Charles to curse. Now, with his foe directly in front of him, towering and fearsome, he knew not what to say, only what to do. He was not alone in being greatly powerful this night, and he was sure that the lore that a werewolf was strongest at the full moon was no story to quiet small children. He couldn't afford to defend himself.

A bellow of violent outrage escaped his tightly clenched teeth like a rush of wind. He arched forward, head leading and right hand raised to his brow with the nails ready to pierce the chest of the werewolf. The miasma that he commanded followed stead, encircling around both him and Maria, a wall of it building behind him growing up as high as the trees. He would block out the moon if had to rather than die at the hands of a mad dog.