It was Netah he called from out of the pack now.
The dog slunk to him with a low growl in his throat, and for the first time something like joy shone in Le Beau's face.

He loved to hear that growl.

He loved to see the red and treacherous glow in Netah's eyes, and hear the menacing click of his jaws.

Whatever of nobility might have been in Netah's blood had been clubbed out by the man.

They were alike, in that their souls were dead.