Roamin’ in the Gloamin
… the woman wasn’t listening. She was changing. Veretissa’s flesh crawled, rippled and ripped, flowing over her like molten lava. Her clothing fell to the ground. And then standing in front of Dervhla on hind legs was a somewhat larger version of the wolf she had battled the night before. … “This is indeed deviltry,” she murmured. “Lycanthropy. Who is the witch now?” …