Andrev threw his head back and roared, the sound utterly inhuman. He leapt, changed midair, and tackled Savva to the ground. The other hunters cried out as a wolf bore down on their leader.
It was simple to paw Savva’s jaw to expose his throat, to sink teeth into the soft flesh.
Hot blood tasted sweeter than wine.
Savva was dead before the hunters recovered enough to take a stab at Andrev, but he was already in a different form, on a different target.
Rastaban waded into the fray, calling for the hunters to stop.
One of them killed him.
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