She’d grown used to seeing Greyback covered in blood over the last month. It seemed to be a favorite accessory for him. Today was no different: with a dead wild boar slung over his shoulders, blood dripped down his broad bare chest and stained the waist of his tracksuit bottoms. Some of the scars left by captivity had healed, but he was still missing patches of hair, and his teeth were jagged even when the moon waned. He went barefoot despite the chill, and his feet were clawed.