As if leading him. After a while, Henryk heard voices. The same ones. Harsh. Confident. “Did you hear that howl?” Tomasz Kowalczyk snorted. “I guess our ‘dinner’ is still alive.” “All the better,” Marek Nowak laughed. “We’ll see what’s left of him.” They emerged into a clearing… and froze. Henryk stood, leaning against a tree. Alive. His clothes torn, his face covered in snow and blood, but still on his feet. And next to him—a wolf. And behind him—shadows. Several of them.
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