“And nothing left to loot neither. I don’t like it. Have you ever seen someone outrun a pack of darkwolves like that? I didn’t think it was possible.”
“I don’t know she was outrunning ‘em, lad,” replies the gruff man. “Look at her.”
A hard leather boot digs its way into the woman’s ribs and the most she can muster from her position face down on the ground is a groan of protest.
“Any farther and she’d be demon meat.”
Demon meat? A shudder rolls through the woman’s weakened body. That’s what those things were?
Presently, the people standing over
Just Another Struggling Writer 
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