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- Drew didn’t answer, squirming out of reach of the Ape’s mighty arms. He’d made a mistake, choosing to wrestle the monster. Balk bit into his shoulder. Drew roared, snapping his own jaws down the side of the Ape’s face. A black ear came away with a wet rip. Wailing, Balk disengaged, lifting a hand to the wound.
- “I see yours is red,” spat the Werewolf, poised for the next attack. Then suddenly an arm slid over his throat from behind, muscles flexing as Arik snatched hold. I thought he was fighting Stamm! Drew’s head thundered as the blood struggled to find a way through his restricted arteries.
- B3 P3 C1
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