The dog bit down hard on his upper arm ever as he tried to get purchase on the misty form. Hon yelped, more from shock than pain, as a feeling of ice spider webbed its way down his arm. As the cold shot through his system a thickening effect spread through the dog. Starting with its nose and working backwards, the dog coalesced, suddenly very real and very heavy.
Jon twisted, trying to throw her off his chest, but she was braced against the couch and had him pinned to the floor. She seemed to have much greater strength than should be possible for a dog, and his flailing got slightly more desperate as she solidified. She released his arm after she had finished, and the other dogs, still shadows, came forward to touch noses with her. Each one solidifying in the same seep of reality.
Jon at up as soon she as she let him, pulling the sleeve away to check the wound. Instead of the ragged bite mark he was expecting, there was a small smear of blood and a set of silvery scars in the familiar half-circle bite pattern. He poked one of the scars experimentally and cursed as the newly healed skin ached a bit. But the pain was nothing worse than some of the bruises he'd gotten while playing rugby. In fact if he wasn't poking it, there was only a faint ache from his arm.
He looked over at the dogs, who had arranged themselves around the main room, all looking at him expectantly. None of them were being threatening and he had no idea what to do next.