Memories of a wolf
And I have myself to save.
After a few moments of waiting, Alastair finally arrived. Behind him was another man, a wolf fur draped over his shoulders. Judging by the size and appearance of his cloak, it was a fresh kill,, and a massive one at that. His hair was jet black, similar to Knight's, but with streaks of white, resembling the sleet outside.
I didn't want to appear as if I was ogling at him, so I shifted my attention.
These people were my enemies, and I wasn't going to do anything stupid that might put me at risk. The best thing I could do was blend among the crowd, perhaps comply with their wishes. Death or execution was never an option for me.
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