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Araceli Amadeus trotted along on all fours, her dusky silver and tawny fur bouncing and whipping in the air that was streaming past her as she went. She had left her normal hunting grounds of West Thrace Forest in rather a hurry. An unfriendly-looking group of nomadic orcs had taken up residence there, and she had no desire to be near them any more than she had to. She had no idea where she was going, and that was fine with her. The werewolf knew she was generally headed in a north-eastward direction, not that it really mattered. All she cared about at the moment was finding her next meal. It had been yesterday evening since she’d last eaten, and her sharp canine eyes searched for signs of movement amongst the underbrush.

There! Something rustled and every muscle in Araceli’s lithe body tensed, staring intently at the leaves. A rodent – probably a rabbit – leaped out and away from her. With a snort, but without any hesitation whatsoever, Araceli took off after the rabbit, which was an unusually quick and sneaky one. It took her in circles, leading her north and north. Araceli hardly noticed where she was headed – and she was headed in the direction of Eidonahra, which happened to be an ancient Elven city, long collapsed in disuse and ill repair. Finally the speedy rabbit took her over fallen stones covered with moss and grass, and she pounced on it when it was caught in the corner of two still-standing stone walls. Her sharp teeth killed the rabbit instantly, a trick she had taught herself to spare herself the hassle of wriggling prey. The werewolf ran her tongue over her teeth, mouth watering with hunger – and it was then that she became fully aware of her surroundings. There was another animal presence there. A big animal. Araceli jumped and lowered her head, hackles bristling and ears twitching for any sound. She’d heard it – a soft padding on the ground. Araceli inwardly cursed for not having paid attention sooner. But now was no time for self-deprication. She needed to defend herself against anything that might appear.

And what a thing did appear. It was a large cat, easily twice or thrice Araceli’s size, snowy white all over with black stripes down the back. Araceli was horrified and puzzled, never having seen something like this before. She snarled and laid her ears flat against her head in warning. She hoped she might scare it away, for she was sure she could not win a fight against something this big. The dead rabbit lay forgotten behind her.

~~~

Taran Corliss’ characteristic limp, which he had grown so used to after the past five or so years, was frustrating him an unusual amount today. The reason being, his small six-year-old daughter, Nimue, had been riding in his arms for the past few hours. It had been a long night, reflected Taran bitterly. It was morning now, but Nimue’s fever had worsened. Snake, thought Taran. After all we’ve been through, a small snake…Indeed, Taran’s hand turned Nimue’s small leg in his hands and he looked helplessly at the festering bite marks. He could only hope he was headed in the right direction, in the direction of a town called Wherefor, a lonely village bordering the edge of Thrace forest. It was a town mostly of dwarves and elves, or so Taran had heard. Generally Taran liked to stay away from non-humans as a rule, but nothing else mattered right now but the feverish Nimue in his arms. “Daddy,” she moaned, “make it stop.”

“I will, sweetheart,” said Taran, the sound of her sickly voice making his stomach turn in unquenchable worry. “Stay awake, alright? Keep looking at me.” His limping sped up a notch, fairly leaping when a log lay across his path. And there it was – finally. A bridge across a long, almost-dry ditch in the road and several buildings and streets – real honest-to-goodness streets, thought Taran gratefully – beyond it. He hurried his steps, his bow and quiver of arrows bumping on his back as he went.

Taran and Nimue approached the guard at the bridge, an unusually thick elf who held out his arm to stop Taran. “I’m sorry,” he said coldly, not sounding at all apologetic, “No humans are to pass today.”

Taran frowned, worry and urgency creasing the lines on his forehead. He dismissed the obvious and blatant prejudice that he normally would have contested. “Sir,” said Taran, doing his best not to plead in the face of anyone, especially not an elf, “with respect, I need to pass. My daughter is ill and needs healing.”

“No humans pass today,” replied the elf, as if he’d been trained in those words and those words only.

Taran nearly growled in frustration. “I need healing for my daughter!” he insisted. Why couldn’t this man understand it? But the elf only shook his head, a maddening smile on his face. Taran’s eyes squeezed shut in barely concealed anger. He pace/limped across the width of the bridge. “Will no one help me?” he cried, more loudly than he usually spoke anything. He was desperate. This child in his arms was the last bit of family he had, his last remaining, breathing memory of Vistre, his beloved wife of only a few years before…No. Taran shut out the thought with a practiced effort. Right now was no time to think about painful memories. He needed to be thinking of Nimue, and how to help her. But none of the elves and dwarves who were milling near the bridge cast Taran and his ailing daughter so much as a look.

Jailtin stumbled drunkenly down the road with a bottle of the finest piss-poor liquor he could find. His balance was weak and his sword seemed unusually heavy in it's scabbard that evening. His head was already pulsing in what he recognized as the signs of a terrible hangover. He tripped over some roots and cursed at them, putting his hand on the hilt of his knicked and worn weapon. He pulled but upon feel the full weight of the deadly weapon in his arms he decided against using it. The roots were hardly a worthy bother. Sighing he stumbled forward, if he hadn't been so drunk he would have been tired. He hadn't stopped walking since the last town where he had gotten the gratuitous amounts of liquor in his body. He looked down at the last of several bottles and sighed once more regretfully. When the liquor ran out he would have to deal with the consequences of the binge he had been on, he need more liquor and fast, he had certainly traveled a day or so surely there was another settlement near.

His eyes fell on a sign that advertised the roads destination. "Wherefor....sounds eerily familiar." As tripped along the road for another few minutes he found himself upon a bridge. The rather thick elf in the center was denying a man with a small bundle in his arms access to the town. He walked closer, hoping to pass as a rather inebriated elf. As his head turned toward the older human, he caught sight of the bundle in the man's arms. A child, and she didn't look too well at that. He could feel a familiar anger welling up inside of him, an anger that had gotten him arrested, thrown out, even once married, though he still didn't know how. His vision faded as he rushed the musclebound elf.

When he opened his eyes he was looking at the sky. "You again?" an angry voice pounded into his terribly painful head. "I thought we sent you off already." he kicked Jailtin for good measure and muttered "lousy drunk" before returning to his original position. Jailtin was vaguely aware he was bleeding.

Geratu bared his teeth as a low rumble sounded from his stomach. His eyes shone brightly as he glared at this newcomer. Another low rumble escaped, this time turning into a small, muffled roar sound. "Geratu? What ails you at this peaceful moment?"
"Lady Aurora, there is a wolf here....a werewolf...female."
"What?" Aurora whispered, not bothering with the telepathy at the moment. Leia looked at her friend. She was sitting on Aurora's shoulder. "Aurora? What is it?"
"Shh, my friend. We must be quiet."

Leia silenced herself and Aurora began to walk slowly around the ruins, peeking here and there around old, moss covered columns.

Once she peeked around another, Leia gasped quietly and fell of Aurora's shoulder. Before landing, her flying senses came in and she stopped at Aurora's mid-back, clutching onto her dress and flying back up to sit on her shoulder.

"Is...is that a...a werewolf?" Leia asked nervously.

"Yes, Leia, it is...definitely. She is much more intelligent than any normal wolf, therefore she must be a werewolf."

"Geratu, do not get into any fight. Surrender."
"Surrender? But...Lady Aurora, surrendering--"
"Is not cowardly. Fleeing from something that hasn't even happened yet is cowardice. Now, just sit and keep an eye on her...We shall see what she does."

Geratu hesitated then answered, "Yes, Aurora..."
He sat on his hind haunches, still cautious and wary of this newcomer...

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The forest was a prison. No that wasn't right, it was normally a playground for him to enjoy. But for awhile now it had been a prison. Chase Fynrion lay on the ground, head on his paws watching the gate with a bored expression on his wolf features. He had lost track of the number of days that passed as one blended into another. There had been no sign of the next wolf that should have come to take his place at guarding the gateway, but he was certain his time was up.

The gateway. He glared at it in frustration and release a small growl. A brown wooden gate between two giant elaborately decorated wooden columns carved out of two trees. The trees were still alive which managed to amaze him when he first arrived over a year ago. Rocks and pebbles were fitted together into a long stone wall that flanked the other side of the trees continuing onward to surround the whole of East Thrace Forest. It was quite a feat to accomplish, but his people managed to do it. The gate was the only entrance to the forest following along the path that led into the woods.

He hated that he had to stay close to the gate in order to watch out for intruders. This severely limited where he could go to hunt and how quickly he had to act to catch his food. Sitting in the middle of the gate, he glanced back into the woods behind him trying to look for any signs of his replacement. Once again, there was nothing but the trees. What he wouldn't give for a good run right now. The chance to be free from this accursed gate. But still he had to guard it, it was his duty for the people. No...It was his responsibility. The village of Meystila lay about 2 miles away following the road but hidden by the trees. It was against the rules to leave his post, everyone depended on him to warn the village should there be danger and to keep intruders out.

His ears perked as he heard something headed his way. Chase quickly stood, hackles raised, a low growl already forming in his throat. Someone was taking the path that would eventually lead to his village, it was time for him to do his job and keep them out. No one had told him that he was to let anyone into the forest therefore it had to be an intruder. He listened as the intruder drew closer his growl increasing as he started to realize there were more than one. It was a whole group coming towards him. Minutes passed as the group finally came into sight. There was about five of them. He sniffed the air trying to pick up on their scent. Two elves and three dwarves.

He crouched closer to the ground as if ready to spring and barked at them. Hopefully they would get the message that he wasn't going to let them through.

"Whoa, stay back you two.” One of the dwarves said positioning himself before the elves. “This wolf looks mad!” He slowly started to draw an axe. As if that would work. They clearly didn’t know he was a werewolf and could understand them quite easily. Chase didn’t plan to let the dwarf finish as he leapt at him biting down on his hand.

“Argh!” The dwarf cried dropping the axe to the ground while clutching his hand.

“Dalton! Are you alright?!” One of the elves asked concern evident in her voice.

“I’m fine Emalia, only a flesh wound.” The dwarf snarled before ripping a shred of fabric from his shirt to wrap around his hand. Chase fell back kicking the weapon further away and glared coldly at the group.

“What is this beast?” One of the other two dwarves muttered.

“Perhaps we should find another way. There’s another town near the Thrace forest.” Emalia suggested.

Smart elf. Chase gave a soft bark at her to show he agreed.

“Nay, we can handle a single beast such as he!” The other two dwarves drew their weapons. Hammers. Chase gave a low tremor of a growl, chuckling at the dwarves. Great choice, surely it would be fast enough to hit a wolf. The two nodded at one another and rushed at him, one on either side. Too easy, did they think that would scare him away? Chase stood and waited for the pair to get closer. When they swung, he ducked watching the dwarves hammer each other. He gave a bark of laughter as the two fell to the ground unconscious.

Emalia looked at her companion elf. “Too intelligent for a mere wolf. Werewolf?”

“Werewolf.” She replied grimly and turned her attention to Dalton who was still nursing his hand. “We should just head for the town.”

Chase watched as the two elves healed and revive their comrades before walking back down the path. When they reached the fork in the road, they would know to take the other path. Hopefully they would also tell others to stay away from this part of the forest. He looked back into the woods again searching for signs of his replacement. Still no one. What was going on? He whined before settling back down under one of the columns of the gate. He was getting worried.

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Uvayn silently crept along in the wood, having no motive whatsoever except to silently rejoice in her victory. Her victory? Escaping from her escorts. It didn't sound like much, but Uvayn was glad to be rid of them for once. Having overprotective parents, Uvayn never saw much by herself. And now, after careful planning (and some trickery), the silver-haired elf executed the scheme perfectly and evaded the guards. True, she was way old enough to take care of herself, but her parents feared the outside world of the unknown, where humans, orcs, and other "vile" creatures roamed. Thus, her parents insisted on escorts for everywhere she went, whenever she traveled outside of the Elven city, even on healing and hunting trips.

Uvayn's green eyes moved around, tracking movements, though her head stayed still. Granted, she wasn't very far from Elgardu, one of the main Elven cities. In fact, if her bearings were right, she was just outside of Wherefor. Her excitement mounted.

Uvayn looked back once, as if to make sure her escorts weren't there waiting for her. Though she knew they wouldn't be. One thing she was grateful for: her hunting skills. While she may not be in the best of elven trackers, she knew enough to hide herself in prime conditions. Not unlike this warm, sunny day.

She started forward, to the town. It was an Elven town, so why should there be any danger? Stories of humans and werewolves danced in her head, all stories of dangerous people. Then she laughed silently to herself. She was still right next to the forest! There was nothing to fear.

The elf maiden stepped out of the forest and into the clearing, practically next to the town gates as it were. It was then she saw a man with a child in his arms. At first glance, it was hard to tell. But when she looked more closely, she knew this was no elf. He was a human.....

The breath seemed knocked out of her. Here? At an Elven town? Perhaps the Wilds weren't as safe as she thought. She was just about to turn around and go back into the safety of the woods when she heard the man exclaim, "“Sir, with respect, I need to pass. My daughter is ill and needs healing.”

Uvayn froze. She was a healer, and she always had a pity for those who were sick and hurting. Many said she was special among the healers - and not because she had extraordinary powers, but because of her passion for healing. But, she argued with herself, their human, what if it's a trick? Besides, they are no good! They only wish for revenge and vile things! Hate and mistrust burned within her.

Perhaps it was mere chance. Perhaps fate. But at that moment, when all else told her to flee, it seemed that the sick little girl's eyes met up with her own, silently pleading for mercy. Mercy and relief from the pain she was feeling. And in that moment, Uvayn knew she could not turn away from one who suffered so much. Not when she could help. She decided she would simply heal this one and leave, and never come back.

The elf had no cloak nor hood, so instead she made sure her silver hair fully covered her pointed ears. She did not want them to know she was an elf, though she highly doubted she had enough of a disguise to cover her identity. Her clothing and appearance was simply too elven-like. But nevertheless, she walked up to the man.

"Excuse me, that little girl appears very ill. Perhaps I can help, if you allow."

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Leah silently bounded along the cold hard and wet ground of the outskirts of the territory which she immediately called hers the first time she saw it.
Her dark black fur reflecting any light that came into contact with her and the wind whipping up the fur around her face making her look like she had a mane, her dark brown eyes reflecting light all the time... And her lightly treading paws still breaking twigs as she walked...
Her head down and eyes focused, and her ears twitching at the slightest and tiniest sound.
She did not intend to be near any other creatures right now, she was hungary and intended to try and find her fill in any way possible.
Her stomach growled lowly making leah stop and pause in her tracks, gritting her teeth she carried on fastening her pace as she continued until she was in a striding rhythm, her fur now in a frenzied blow.

Suddenly in a tree nearby the crows and other wildlife fled in terror of being hunted down, she knew birds were stupid but they were good when warning that something was close and nearby.
leah lifted her long slim head into the air and inhaled any smells that may have come about while she was daydreaming, she didn't notice anything but it was getting quite dark and she was quite far from any shelter as it looked like a storm.

She was right, after a hour or so there was a massive downflow of rain, the heavens opening and leah was drenched not something she liked.
a wet dog smell did not suit her and she needed somewhere dry now, her fur already looked like rags and her eyes blinking to stop the pain and burning of the drops entering her eyes.

The trees gave some shelter and there trunks were even better, so when leah found a hollow and broken tree trunk hidden in a thorn bush she was down but thankful, a place to hide and escape the worst of the weather and the dark. she shook of her wet fur making the insides of the trunk damp and smelly...
this wasn't her kind of living anymore..

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Jask had always liked the rain. There was something eternal about it - the way the steady drive of droplets did not give heed to the petty concerns of the beings that dwelt upon this land. So unrelenting, yet so simple. If only his life were as such.

It was this thought that swirled in his mind as Jask's dark form melted through the grey dusk-light, sodden from the rain, yet languid in his stride as he made his way casually through the dark backstreets of Alkony, towards his current temporary lodgings. Humans, as a rule, did not wonder freely on the cobbled streets of the Elven kingdom any more - long gone were the days when they were accepted as equals to the fair elven-folk. Any who glanced upon him may have wondered at the rash stupidity of this tall, full-blooded human, who seemed so casually nonchalant in his gait. Jask knew he should be acting differently – more skittish perhaps. More akin to the other human rebels, who still skirted the streets of Alkony, and hadn’t yet receded into the darkness of the woodlands to try their luck at surviving in the wilderness. But tonight, Jask was tired. And he couldn’t quite muster the motivation to care.

Finally reaching his destination, Jask passed his tanned hand delicately across the top of what appeared to be nothing more than a weathered board propped against a rather large, unruly collection of stones – the remains of an abandoned herb store, owned by humans long-gone. His finger caught the slender twine behind the board, and he tugged sharply, twice, and then once more, before waiting for the telltale scrape of the sanctum below being opened.

Two small, hazel eyes appeared in the darkness behind the board, followed by a small, rotund body, and a mop of blond curls.

“Sir Jask! I was waitin’ for you, Miss Tianna said you’d be back soon-…”

Jask hushed the young boy with a quick finger to his lips, then ruffled the boy’s blond curls before motioning into the darkness beyond.

“Go on, I’m right behind you.”

His whisper was absorbed by the darkness, and the boy trotted obediently ahead, leading his dark companion deep into the recesses of the stonework, and down to what may have been a network of storage rooms, in a previous time not long past. No sooner had Jask’s form appeared in the first candle-lit room, than a slender figure had flung herself towards him, two pale arms reaching up to encircle his neck. Jask forced a smile at the girl’s enthusiasm, prying her slowly away.

“Jask!! Do you have to be gone so long every time? Surely scouting for food doesn’t take all day… it’s unsafe to be outside you know-…”

Jask opened his mouth to give the usual retort, but was cut off by the deep baritone of a heavy-set man who had emerged from an adjoining room. The candle-light reverberated off the broad planes of his face, remarkably alike to his sister’s, who still beamed up at Jask, as if entranced.

“Let him be, Ti. His methods are his own, and whether it takes him an hour or a ten-day, it’s fine with me as long as he brings in the goods.” He grinned lopsidedly at Jask, who flashed him a good-natured grin in return, his teeth brazenly white against the tan of his skin. Clearing his throat, the larger man continued. “Before I forget, you had a visitor today, Jask. Rebel human, little runt of a man…I asked him to stay, but he said he had to leave before they found him – the elves I suspect. He left this for you.”

Jask knew what it was before he even laid eyes on the parchment. To any other, it would seem like an inconsequential request for assistance from a rebel party – common enough. Only Jask new it’s true significance, and by whom the mystery parchment had in fact been imparted.

Once again, the High Elves had summoned him.

"Uh...Ms. Loramendi?"
"Ah! That'd be me sir!" A young woman jumped up, careful not to knock off her hood, and walked up to the stand. She gave the man a big smile and stood on the tips of her toes so she could look taller.
"Loramendi huh? That sounds an awful lot human," the man said suspiciously. He watched the girl untie her little pouch.
"I know. It's not the first time someone has noticed that. It's gotten me into trouble quite a lot of times but then my parents hear I got into trouble again, boy," the hooded woman let out a chuckle before continuing, "they get mad telling them that Loramendi is just a name. And that they can't just take a girl in for having a last name. It's funny really." She put down three golden coins and then took the bag of goods.

Nalia Loramendi was a great liar. After she was far enough away from the shop she took off her hood and made her way to her hideout. It was actually very easy to get to from the shop she was just in, maybe a five minute walk. Of course whenever it was her turn to get something, Nalia always went the longest ways possible. It was more dangerous for her but less dangerous for her group.

When she hit the main road of Alkony, where there were many guards and where there were many civilians Nalia put her hood up. Not many elves had red hair, if they did it was very rare. It was easier for Nalia to just put her hood up than for her to try to pass for a very rare type of elf, in human rags.

Of course, Nalia Loramendi was attracted to fights so usually people found out that she was a human. She didn't like to get in them but some how; she found herself in one; one way or another. So, even though she took many precautions when it was her turn to bring in food, she almost always got into a fight. When she was finally out of the main road and close to her group's hideout, Nalia heard some shouting and yelling. She slowly walked to the sounds. The woman pressed up to a wall of a house and looked down the corner from which she heard the noises. What she saw made her angry beyond anger. It made her want to join a rebellion, but, most of all, it made her scared beyond belief.

The guards were beating a small child.

She quickly set down her things and fastened her hood tight so they wouldn't be able to see her ears or hair. The child was huddled up into a ball and the three where yelling terribly nasty things at her as they kicked and hit her. Nalia ran up to the guards and stopped, her nose right under one of the guard’s chin. He stumbled backwards, as did the other two guards. The child stayed down. Nalia bit her lip and stared into the guard’s eyes; challenging him.

Araceli’s ears twitched to the two newcomers, but her eyes were only for the great white beast before her. She breathed and growled in turns, the hairs on her bristly shoulders standing on end. And then they started speaking. The werewolf stopped growling long enough to listen to them.

Araceli barked once in bitter agreement. Much more intelligent…well, thanks for that, she thought dryly. She could vaguely feel some sort of connection between the elf and the shaggy white beast. Clearly she was using telepathy of a sort. Araceli strained her mind to hear it, but of course she couldn’t. She relaxed when the tiger sat down. With another warning growl, Araceli raised her head to study the elf and the tiny little fluttering creature on her shoulder, curiosity growing within her. She sighed. Curiosity killed the werewolf, she thought derisively. And then in another moment she was off, racing through the forest and away from the strangers and the great white beast and the rabbit. The rabbit…Araceli could hear her stomach growling hungrily. She shook it off. She needed to get away from the people as quickly as possible.

Araceli ran and ran and ran. Long into the day, long into the night, stopping only briefly at a stream to drink water. And then she was off again. Putting distance between herself and the great white beast she was terrified of. Before she realized what she was doing, exhausted beyond belief, Araceli had plummeted headlong into a clearing. There was a wall there, there was a gate. But more importantly…

Instantly Araceli was on her guard again. She jumped backwards and growled at the other wolf there…and it was most likely a werewolf. A low snarl escaped her lips, a sound that said ‘Stay away from me and I’ll leave you alone’. She was too exhausted for this. She’d been running all day, and she could not fend off an attack if that was what he decided.

~~~

Taran jumped back and looked down at the drunkard on the ground. His nose wrinkled in disgust and he held Nimue closer to him, turning her head toward his chest and away from the stinking man who had so foolishly rushed the elven guard. In other circumstances, he might have appreciated the effort but right now he was in no mood to deal with drunken fools.

He pleaded with the elf again, and then turned when he heard a new voice.
It was a beautiful woman, someone simply too beautiful and too ageless to be human. She had silver hair, which was odd for someone as young as she looked. Taran frowned and stared, speechless for a moment, before answering. He was wary of elves, but desperation drove him to give only one response. “Yes, please, Lady,” said Taran, an air of carefully polite respect in his voice. He could not afford to be rude to this elf right now. “I don’t have much to pay you with, but you’re welcome to all that I have. This is my daughter. She was bitten by a snake last night, but I’m afraid I’m not allowed in town today.” He gave the elven guard a vicious glare. In his arms Nimue turned and looked at the woman, eyes big and red-rimmed with pain and quiet pleading. She wailed softly and Taran looked down at her, putting a hand up to pull away strands of her hair. “Hush, sweetheart,” he said, “You will be fine. Listen to your Da, alright?” Taran’s forehead was creased with urgent worry and he grit his teeth. Yes. She will be fine. She has to be fine. Everything will turn out this time, because I love her so much. My love will will her through this. He had to repeat words of encouragement to himself, else risk worry that would surely drive him to insanity.

“Please, where can we take her?” asked Taran, voice rising slightly with nervous emotion.

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Jailtin was in so many different kinds of pain. He thought about standing and winced. He thought about sitting up. When his body didn't protest he lifted himself up. He was almost sick. His vision swam. He was going to regret this in the morning. For what must have been the hundredth time that evening he swore that he would never have another drop of alchohal, he would have laughed at himself but he didn't think that his stomach would have stayed inside of him if he did. So he grimaced and rolled onto his knees to make the further transition to that unholy position of standing. He was bleeding from everywhere and his face was a mess of hot pain. We was sick. At that moment he truly hated himself.