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It was strange. It wasn't even the fact that a human was in the heart of a wolf den without their throat ripped open—how pungent the herbs smelled in here—it was the fact that the leader had dragged them here herself. There were dry leaves stuck in her tangled white hair; her wolf's tail lashed and twitched irritably from side to side, raising small clouds of dust from the ground. What was she doing there? It looked like she was tearing something in half. God, how sharp her claws were. "Don't even think about moving, human." Gerda hissed, suddenly finding herself at the very edge of the bed and applying a piece of cloth soaked in an obscure healing ointment to the wound on the human's leg. How stupid they had to be—she thought—to fall into a trap barely covered by twigs. And these same people were going to take over the forest. Ridiculous, really. "If you move, I'll bite your leg off."
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