บท 41: midnight of a hound’s creed.

A grandfather clock chimed in the manor's lobby.

The beast padded down the familiar hallways of its territory, its muzzle twitching at the new scents that invaded its domain. It snarled at the detestable heat radiating from a nearby fireplace, and hurried on, plunging back into cooler shadows.

The hound's claws clacked against the wooden floor with every step, the timber creaking occasionally at the unexpected weight. Humans walked past, garbed in black, carrying out some or other important errand at this late hour. The hound cared not; the affairs of humans were simultaneously beneath its consideration, and beyond its comprehension. 

The humans gave the creature a wide berth when they saw those yellow eyes coming down the hallway.

The beast chuckled to itself—the noise beyond anything the heavens or earth could produce. 

It took pleasure in the humans' fear.