The five moons of Pangea glowed with an erie light, casting pools of light on the mossy floor of the forest; broken only by the tall thick trees that stood in its way. A figure stepped into the moonlight, his footsteps so quiet that it could have been mistaken for leaves being blown about from the soft wind that was passing by. A ray light hits the figures face, revealing black hair, blue eyes that were two orbs of glacier ice; and a cold evil smile that seemed unnatural. He loved to go hunting on nights like these, it made him happy to see blood flow from his prey as he goes in for the killing blow. He was closing in on his prey now, two figures could now be seen sitting beneath the moonlight, looking up at the constellation of stars above them. He moved silently as he closed the distance between him and his prey. Moving siftly, Valcenz grabbed the young females elf's head with his left hand, and with the other grabbed his hunting knife from its sheath and slit the womans neck. Blood flowed from the wound as she fell to the ground like a ragdoll. The other young male elf gave a cry of despair and outrage as he jumped up and grabbed his long dagger from its sheath. However, Valcenz was too quick for him, he slashed the male elf's left arm, cutting it from the top of his shoulder, all the way down to his wrist. The elf screamed out in agony, the sound ringing through the empty forest as he fell to the blood stained moss floor of the forest.

Derek woke with a start, beads of sweat pouring down into his face. His forest green eyes shimmered with tears as they fell down his cheeks and to the ground, leaving a ichy, salty trail behind. He quickly rubbed the tears away not wanting anyone to see him crying. His eyes scan the surrounding area, they were in the entrance of a canyon, a fire roared merrily a few feet away from him. He remembered that they were headed to Canyon City and had camped for the night because trackers patroled this area at night and they didn't need any unnecessary attention. He slid a calloused hand through his semi-long chocolate brown hair and scratched the top of his head. "Damn nightmare." That had been the fith night in a row of dreaming the same nightmare, the night that his wife died. He could still she her face, drained of color, eyes lifeless, lying dead on the forest floor, not able to turn away because his own wounds kept him from moving. He remembered every second as he layed there for what seemed like hours, crying and in denial that his wife was dead. He gazed up at the horizon, the first sun was starting to rise, "we need to get moving soon", he thought to himself.

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