Third Person's POV
Her body shuddered mid-flight before going limp, and her anger and resentment were frozen into her features even as unconsciousness claimed her.
But Ethan had no time to look back as the storm of bone spurs descended upon him, being sharp enough to pierce stone.
He moved like a shadow, and he twisted and rolled in the air while his cloak whipped in violent arcs.
Some he slipped past by the width of a hair, and others he shattered mid-flight with the snap of a conjured blade.
A dark dagger, jagged with frost, spun in his grasp as he carved through the barrage.
Each impact with it rang out like steel striking steel and sent shards of bone clattering against the ground.
Still, more spurs came, and forced him back a step, and then another.
His boots gouged lines into the dirt as he advanced with calculated precision and drew closer to the cluster of four werewolves huddled near the treeline.
They were frozen in place, as pale as corpses.
