Thud, thud!
The sharp arrowheads pierced the wild wolves' fur, running through their necks, pinning them to the ground.
In just a moment, more than half of the wolves lay dead on the ground.
The remaining wolves panicked, fleeing in disarray, disappearing into the dense reeds.
"Alive, we survived!"
Lanier, covered in blood, looked at himself, a chunk of flesh bitten off his arm, his calves full of small holes, blood flowing incessantly, the bite marks of the wild wolves' sharp teeth.
Around him, none of his companions had died.
In a short time of biting, unless the throat was bitten, it wouldn't result in instant death.
But, with injuries like theirs, what hope was there in a place like this?!
A heart full of hope just a moment ago, now dimmed to darkness.
Although Lanier didn't know what bacteria were, or why a bite from wild wolves or dogs would lead to fever and illness, having fled for so long, he was all too clear about the fate that lay ahead.
