The Birth of a Witch

Stepping closer to the Alpha wolf's den, Sylvie lifted her head—only to see darkness and a low growl echoing from deep inside the cave. However, she could see its form, a mangy grey coat of fur, and it towered above her in height like a beast of nightmare. 

'It must be at least three metres tall,' Sylvie thought with muted fear. 

The beast stood on four muscular legs, each ending in claws that curved like jagged blades, intimidating and designed to carve flesh from bone with terrifying ease. Its thick, grey fur clung to the beast's muscular frame in wild and messy tufts, coarse and matted from the decades of feral living.

Beneath the midafternoon fading sunlight, the silver strands glimmered, giving the creature an eerie yet mystical atmosphere.