“I have been invited to a party with the Lady of Setland. You should go along with me.

If Larre could smell my viscous wolf smell now, he would suffocate from suffocating hot anger. But he cannot know that, he just looks calmly into my yellowing eyes covered with rage.

“Put yourself in order,” he scoffs.

“I’m not human,” I growl at him.

My fangs are silver in the gloomy light. I can taste the hot taste of my own blood in my mouth.

And Tarrum casts indifferently:

“You were a she-wolf in Icebang. Here,” he says forcefully, “it’s different.

Then he orders Bras standing at a distance:

- Introduce....