Whatever you wanted to call it, werewolf or lupine wavelength haemovariform, the claws and teeth were impressive. Rose was torn between abject terror and giddy excitement, because… werewolf! A creature of myth, not supposed to exist, and now one was hunting them!
The Doctor would fix this; he always did. But still, hearing it sniffing and scratching away outside the library, either unable or unwilling to enter because of the mistletoe oil impregnating the walls, sent chills down her spine.
Sooner or later, the mistletoe would no longer be enough to protect them, so they’d better find something that would.