Phinnegan wished it hadn’t. “Faolchú,” Periwinkle whispered, the fear apparent in his voice. The light from the orb fell on the hound that was moving towards them, showing its fur to be short and red. Not the reddish-brown of a tame hound but darker, a rich red the color of blood and rust. The fur was missing in spots, revealing a white, translucent skin that glistened like the underbelly of a snake. Veins and arteries wove like blue and purple spider webs beneath the skin. The leg muscles of the hound were long and sinewy, and they rippled with constrained strength as the hound crept nearer. The paws bore five toes, each with a short, but sharp, white claw. The hound had no tail and its ears were short and pointed and bore no fur. The snout was long and the jaw was strongly muscled. The hound’s lips curled back in a snarl, displaying teeth that were stained yellow from either age or diet, and with gums bearing the same translucent skin as the body, blood vessels bulging beneath.
