Neverwinter Forest Igor on chains, backed by his baying hounds.

Tear open the old wound, slow him. They were comparatively healthy, they could run him down like a deer -- because how dare these people threaten his children! His friends! His teeth sank in and the taste of blood encouraged him, proof that Mal was capable of defending all that he loved. But it was yanked from his grasp and away from Mal and Simmik. His prey started to flee.

A fleeting glance to Simmik, but he really doubted it needed a discussion or anything. He was definitely following. He wasn't going to forgive or think this was punishment enough. No no, not after what they'd tried to do to Aibreann! So he sprinted off along the bloody trail -- it was exciting in such a morbid way. He ran, urging himself forward to try and bite something -- a tail, an ankle, anything that happened to be momentarily flung back far enough that it tempted him. Whether or not he'd even stop at the borders was questionable, caught up in the moment.