Stavanger Bay you haven't felt my wrath until you've felt my hands on your chest

the woman turned; the pierce of her yellow eyes scorned erzsébet's soul, and the countess gazed coldly at the wretched creature, unperturbed by the other's glare. rage and frustration with ferahgo's handling of her mounted; it coupled with her despair o'er  wednesday's disappearance, and the countess was wrung undone.

"you are pathetic!" she snarled, leaping through the fading sound of her own words to rip at the other wolf, if only to feel the rush of blood against her teeth.