Rogue

Fingers which were long, separate and had sharp claws caught a bunch of pink shoulder length hair, viciously pulling her back towards its black domineering frame.

"Argh!" Elizabeth groaned as sheer pain rocketeered from her head to her spine.

It was not over when she felt her body caught through the wind and flung back, then slammed against the wall, before finally landing on the cold hard ground. Her eyes, which had been squeezed shut from the pain, opened, and her body ran cold from the throbbing aches that spasmed from her spine to her head.

"Pathetic. A dog pretending to be a Wolf, it is no wonder you can not defend yourself. A disgrace." The Rogue spoke in English with the heaviest accent she had ever heard.

It was close to a Vieann accent but it was Vieann.

There was something Rogues despised more than regular Werewolves. It was weaklings. Their kind discarded the weaker of their Pack whenever a child had turned eight through a series of rituals.

She paid no mind to the insults