Behind Saoirse suddenly a shadow shifted. And then another and then another until eleven shadows encircled them, a growing eerie feeling arising in the air. A primal display of power beyond comprehension.
The fallen soldiers nursing their wounds and resting sat up in fear. "It's the spectral wolves!" One of them shouted, his voice trembling. Then the air around them tightened, the beasts circling them like a noose.
Saoirse's eyes darted to the shifting shapes, she realized that they might be allies in that moment. Were they beasts that understood her kind?
The beasts moved silently, their ghostly paws leaving no trace on the frozen ground. Encircling their prey, the air growing colder with every passing second, frost spread like spiderwebs across the group's weapons and armor. Then, without warning, one lunged, faster than the eye could follow.
