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Aimé, in a most comical and un-heroic fashion, tossed Alli to the side. She groaned as her head bumped off the floor, and lay quite still. Aimé turned to face the wolf, and gasped at the terror of the image. Ferocity personified, he thought it.
And with good reason did Werewolf-Mardil appear this way. Not only was the blue-blooded one a harsh and strict character originally, he had been turned into a Werewolf by one far more callous. Truly, it was the phantom who had bitten Mardil all that time ago. A more devious, villainous, diabolical wolf had never before walked the lands of Middle-earth; and now his evil was manifest once more, in the able vessel of Mardil.
He howled and snarled, pacing hither and thither, clearly as bloodthirsty as they come.
Aimé kept his cool, though. After all, he had his trusty crossbow at hand. Aim, one hit, and the job is done.
Wolf-Mardil paused. He was facing this deadly weapon head-on, and his mind was racing. How could he escape?
Aimé shot! But nothing happened. What was going on? The crossbow: it was jammed! "Blasted Hollywood drama!" he yelled! And within seconds his foe was upon him. Aimé used his hands to protect himself but the wolf ripped and tore with fury. In no time at all, Aimé was lying on the ground and bleeding badly.
The Wolf licked his lips and smiled; then turned towards the still-motionless Alli. He crept towards her...
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