The Black Wolf Lord ran at the forefront, its fur pitch-black, as hard as steel spikes, and its eyes seemed to burn with green fire, like a demon newly born from hell. As it ran, its four paws landed on the ground, and its sharp claws and teeth gleamed with a cold light, while it sprinted wildly on the forest's bed of dead leaves. The soldiers could not keep up with its speed; they could only watch it make its way from one mountain peak to the valley and then from the valley to the distant woods, all the feathered arrows falling behind it, helplessly watching it approach.
