Over the next few days, the young wolf and Groy remained in the church. As the infinite divine power dwindled, the mutated creatures amassing outside grew increasingly restless. Although they still couldn't penetrate the thin layer of light that was barely perceptible to the naked eye, these shambling masses refused to leave. Their numbers grew daily, and aside from their meaningless moans, they lurked restlessly near the church, their cravings intensified in ways they never felt when they were alive...
Their thirst for flesh, their yearning for life.
"We should leave," said the young man, his face increasingly tired and his body, already thin, had lost more weight. His poignantly sharp ears drooped in his tangled hair, and his coarse shirt, though still somewhat clean, emitted a faintly sour smell as he muttered the words for who knew how many times.
