“Look over—” Dastion said, and a shape burst from cover and came at them. Growling. Snorting. It was Francine the werewolf, gassed and buried underwater for forty years, poisoned by humans, a perfect manifestation of unbridled rage.

Dastion dropped and rolled, his pike swinging up and around, but Francine avoided it and fell on him, straddling his wide chest and raising her front paws ready to tear him into shreds. The moon reflected in her mad, blazing yellow eyes. Foam speckled her jaws.

Just as she was about to drop down and claw Dastion’s face from his skull, Fer bounded from cover and leapt at her. The shapeshifter was still in the guise of a wolf, and perhaps seeing something that might have been her kind gave Francine a moment’s pause.

Fer powered into Francine closing its jaws around her throat, clasping and biting hard as they both fell away from the dwarf.

Vince grabbed Dastion’s hand and helped him up, then stalked after the fighting Kin. Fer rolled and writhed, never loosening its grip on Francine’s throat even as the werewolf raked its sides with her claws. Dark bloody lines opened in its hide. Fer only bit harder.

Francine slowed, limbs still lashing out, but heavier now, less strength behind the impacts. A dark flower of blood bloomed around the shapes, splashing the air, staining the ground. The moment Fer eased back to gain a better grip, the werewolf shoved with her shrivelled legs and caught Fer in the chest. The shapeshifter fell back and struck the ground hard.

Vince darted in with his spear, jabbing it towards the werewolf. Its point pierced the creature’s left shoulder and she turned on him, bloody mouth yawning wide, eyes wild and flaming.

A hand closed around his arm and pulled him back, just as Francine leapt at him. He stumbled away and fell, dragged along the ground, kicking with his heels to gain purchase, and Fer fell on the werewolf’s back and pushed her into the soil.

The beasts rolled and tangled, hissing and gnashing and growling, and then Fer was on top and pressing down with its mouth around Francine’s throat once again. The shapeshifter shook its head, and this time when the werewolf’s movements began to slow, Vince thought it was for real. Fer growled and pushed down, twisting its head left and right, and the werewolf shivered one last time.

Fer pulled back and away, panting hard. Its eyes were wide. Blood coated its mouth, face and neck. It stretched, crackling and snapping, twisting as it transformed into a humanoid form once again.

“Are you—” Angela asked, stepping forward, but Sammi grabbed her arm and held her back.

“It’s not right,” she said. “Fer’s infected now, too. If we wait too long—”