Frowning, she brought the finger up to inspect it, leaving her foot as it was. If she touched it again, she would only end up in more pain. She saw the blood trickling from the tip of her index finger and watched as it flowed over and along the creases in her hand. Blood. There had been so much of it the night she had killed Greyback. It had been everywhere: all over the floor in a giant pool, on her clothes, drenching and staining her head before it began to coagulate.