Dear Enemy, You're My Mate
They follow the most muscular wolf, and if you're sick as alpha, you better have eyes in your neck before you're stabbed in the back.
"Oh shit!"
Dior swears, and I stop running, staring at the undead tiger before us. It must have run ahead of us, and now it's showing its teeth, making these hissing sounds. Its fur is orange, but a soft grey underneath all the blood dried on its coat. Like the bear, the eyes are an angry red.
Ice-cold fear trickles down my spine, and I whine at what appears to be a zombie tiger.
"No way can you fight that thing—it's massive!" Dior seems awake enough to look around the scene. He then taps my shoulder, making me turn to the right and stare at the river down the
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