The very thing that I love's killing me and I can't conquer it

She snaked her tongue between her lips so that it dangled, covered in ropes of poisonous drool. One touch of her spit upon the other's eyes or an open wound would give her the same madness. Despite her inner terror for her condition, Jinx was constantly beset with the temptation to bite others and spread it to them, to make them suffer as she suffered.

Yet there was no strength left in her body. She was wasting away to thirst, unable to sate it for the hydrophobia that plagued her. Even the slightest sip of water made her throat spasm uncontrollably. She stared wildly at the other wolf, and growled a low, shrieking sound when the other claimed that this was no longer hers. She was right, of course—the mad wolf could no more lead than she could stand—yet a sense of understanding made her yowl angrily anyway.