Armand’s smirk was tainted by the ugly yellow gleam in his eyes. “He attacked us in the woods,” he explained, sounding both murderous and a little bit triumphant. “On his own, during the full moon. The fool died in the Saint Louis River, and now you’re going to join him.”

Well, good for him, Klaus thought. Elijah had taken on the entire werewolf population of New Orleans. Klaus realized that he must have interrupted the changing celebration, and for whatever reason he’d decided to fight off the wolves. In spite of Armand’s cocky assurance that Elijah had not survived, Klaus knew differently—mere werewolf venom wouldn’t kill an Original. Klaus felt a slow burn of pride for his idiot brother.

- The Originals: The Rise, Chapter 22