Sark backtracks a bit as his wolf continues to advance, pushing him closer to Clark and the other hounds and he's really not sure which of the two evils he'd rather take. Not that he has much choice.

He might have known these beasts would be familiar to him. Even now, he can't even seem to get Clark on uneven ground. Imagine not even being able to have someone just as disoriented as you when it comes to dealing with monsters.

He digs his feet into the pavement, stopping just short of the ring-around-the-Clark created by the other wolves and digs his gun out of his pocket.

"How well do they fare against bullets?" He asks, somewhat dryly, before popping the one advancing on him in the head.