"I'm afraid only the victor of our contest has sufficient power for such a feat," he says, and shudders. His eyes close, and when they open again, they are wolf-eyes.
There's a green shimmer of light, and then, once again, a white yearling wolf sitting where the man had been a moment before. It bows its head, very formally, and sinks down onto the cushion, looking exhausted.
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject
no subject