The werewolf's apology had hardly had any effect on the young Lord, his face still ashen and his eyes dull. He wanted rest, wanted to rush home to ensure the boy lived, wanted, above all, to have believed the boy in the first place.
"I was walking down Horse Guards Road, on my way here. There was fog, but nothing else I could see or hear. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, although I thought perhaps it was quieter than usual. And then there was a howl, a roar, almost, right behind me, and I could feel it breathing, loud, rank breathing." He told Horace, looking up to him, "And I ran. I could hardly do anything else." He paused, "I could almost feel its teeth on me and then... and then Master Lloyd ran towards the beast and it crush him. Mauled him. It was... it was the most horrendous creature you could imagine, Granville. Muscle and fur and flesh and... and the eyes, Granville, it's eyes were completely mad."
George realised he was shaking, and he forced himself to sit up, to stop leaning against the chair back for support and present himself as a man and not some terrified child. "I tried to beat it off with my cane." He began, and then paused, wondering if it was wise to reveal the nature of that defence. But it his fellow Council members were offended, then so be it. "It was silver and ash-wood, and when the beast's back split the wood, I thought the silver would see it off. I... If it had an effect, it was not immediate. But by then others had heard, and someone let off a shot. I think it must had pierced the creature, or at least frightened it.It ran off, towards St James' Gardens."
He fell silent then for several long moments, before taking a deep and shuddering breath. "The young man was bitten, like the... the other victim, on the shoulder. The doctor thinks that he may survive. But..." He looked then at the Council, pointedly not at Isiah Fernsúlfer, "But that bite may kill him yet. Is there a cure?"