This was far more than a simple encounter with an angry Quileute. This was much, much worse. The beast glowering at me from across the clearing with lips pulled back in a snarl could easily have dwarfed Sam or Jacob. As I backed up until I felt my clothing stick to the rough bark behind me, I still couldn't help but categorize its glowing crimson eye color for later. If there would even be a later.
Literally hearing the ticking of my clock run down, I closed my tear-filled eyes to send a last mental cry for help to my personal savior. He'd never been able to hear my thoughts, though, and he was probably hundreds of miles away by now.
As the heavy crunch of leaves indicated the werewolf's slow approach, a fearsome roar of fury more terrifying than anything I'd heard so far drew near.