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 knife flew through the air and stuck itself into the tree behind Arya’s back, just centimeters away from her face.  Panting heavily from her run with a slightly irritated look to her face, she wasn’t at all daunted by the proximity of the projectile attack.

                She was too well acquainted with such things.

                Poor aim.  She thought.  The woods are so quiet tonight; I probably could’ve landed that shot with my eyes closed.

                She glanced to her left.  Wendy was in a similar position as she was; pressed against a slightly larger tree not twenty yards away.  The two girls locked eyes for a brief moment before their three pursuers passed by, between their line of vision. 

                Arya studied the pursuers.  They were definitely rogue bandits; dressed in dowdy, unkempt attire with tattered fabric wrapped around their faces as a makeshift mask.  Arya swore that she could smell their offensive body odor from where she was standing, despite the distance and the pungent scents of the surrounding foliage.  One of the three bandits was significantly taller and carried a long, thin, irregularly-shaped blade unsheathed at his side.  The other two were fairly the same height, build, and both had various knives attached to their belts and leg straps.  One of those two threw the knife that missed by a mile in combat terms.

                “We lost them.”  One of the bandits said.  “…Damn.”

                It followed to reason that the taller one, bearing a sword like that, had to at least have a bit more skill than the other two.  It would be prudent to take him out first.

                “Never mind.”  said another.  “This isn’t the first time they’ve escaped from us, and it certainly won’t be the last time we find them.”

                Silently, Arya pulled a small knife from her thigh pouch and positioned it between her fingers.  Howling could be heard not too far off.  There were two different howls.  Two wolves.  The normal wolves indigenous to the area never travelled alone, without their pack.  …But Arya was getting distracted.  She focused her attention on the tall bandit again.  She was ready to throw and knock him down, until a familiar, eerie sort of howling pierced her ears.  She immediately covered her ears and crouched down to the ground, sheltered by the backside of an enormous berry bush.

                Werewolves.  She thought, her heart beating wildly in her chest.  Suddenly she was awake; the immediacy of the situation crashed into her all at once.  Now she could admit to being a bit afraid.   

                When the howling finally stopped, she slowly uncovered her ears.  She heard the cries and struggling of the bandits as they were ravaged by the wolves.  Arya’s heart raced faster and faster. 

                Wendy.

                She dared to peek through the bush and catch a glimpse of what was going on.  The tall bandit lay mangled on the forest floor, a mess of flesh and dirty fabric.  Perhaps Arya had been wrong about him being the most apt of the three.  But it was more likely that he, like most, just wasn’t prepared to fight a werewolf.  One of two shorter bandits was slumped against a tree, his torso covered in bloody gashes.  The other stood before one of the wolves, a knife in either hand, trying to maintain a certain distance between him and his opponent as the two moved in a circle.  Wendy was nowhere to be seen, which at that moment was a relief for Arya.

                A normal wolf wouldn’t fight like that, with repose time.  She thought.  He’s lucky in this case.  She scolded herself afterwards for thinking such a heartless thing.  She wished that she could help him escape somehow, but she knew better than to take her chances with lycans.

                Wait, where is the other wol— But her thought was cut off by her gasp; the other wolf was just to her right and ready to strike.  Instinctively, Arya pulled one of her largest blades from her belt and drove it into the side of the wolf as it growled and leapt at her.  Its body slackened just enough for Arya to kick it off of her with every bit of strength she had.

                She stood up and stared at the wolf, still in shock from the attack.  Her blade had transpierced his right side, just above the rib cage.  She had missed his heart by a “mile,” but for an instinctive, unintended strike it was fairly good aim.  He was a young wolf.  Smaller and more slender than usual, and thus more susceptible to—

                What happened to the other?  Arya pulled her blade from the wolf’s body and stepped away, out towards the clearing.  The other wolf—and the remaining bandit—were gone.  Arya her lips.  Must have taken him for supper.  She thought, remorsefully.  She fell to her knees, clasped her hands together, and said a prayer for the dead.  Wendy came out from where she was hiding and joined her companion.  She had tears in her eyes, and her blue hair was damp and disheveled.

                Arya glanced at her friend.  “Hey.”

                Wendy looked at her.  A few tears had escaped her eyes.

                “This isn’t something we haven’t dealt with before.”

                “I know; it just…gets me every time.”  She paused, and drew in a shaky breath.  “…The world can be such savage place, even when there is such joy and beauty in it elsewhere.  No matter how many times I fight and win, it will always be terrifying.”

                “My point is that it could be a lot worse right now.”  said Arya.

                Wendy nodded, and wiped her face.  “You’re right.  …Are you okay, then?  Not hurt, I mean?”

                “Nope.  You?”

                “No.”

                “Good.  We need to keep moving if we intend to make it to Rho before nightfall.”  Arya stood and loosely re-braided her long black hair before picking up the tall bandit’s sword off of the ground.  She examined it, tested it out a few times, and seeming pleased with it, slid it into one of the empty sheathes on her back.  She paused for a moment and looked out into the forest.  Everything was so silent; it was bizarre.  “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be in here when it gets dark.”  she said, her voice almost a whisper.

                Wendy got up and dusted off her tunic.  “Mm-hmm.”  Was all she could say.  She pulled her hair into a ponytail and followed her friend.

Consciousness returned to me for maybe ten seconds.  All I can remember is the headache, the stomachache; the pain that tormented every fiber of my existence.  I was still lying in the spot where she had left me, and any tiny movement caused my body to scream.  I felt like a corpse brought back from the dead; not yet recovering from the rigor mortis.

            I need… to… I need to get… help….. I thought.  It hurt to even think.  Breathe.

            Everything went fuzzy, black, and cold once more.

It had started raining outside.  Kunsu liked rainy days.  They were calm and quiet, save the gentle pitter-patter of the droplets against the roof and perhaps the wind blowing through the trees outside.  It was perfect weather for him to stay indoors, without the temptation to go out and chop or stack wood or some other sort of chore.  He would sit in the warmth of his hearth on such “gloomy” days, and quietly do his woodworking.

            The interior of his small, cozy house was illuminated by the fire.  He sat at his table, a small disc of the finest madrone in his left hand and a woodburning tool in his right.  He held the tip of the tool up to the candle’s flame, held it there for a few seconds, and proceeded to burn lines onto the wood.  This one was to be a pendant, emblazoned with the symbol of all Earth bearers—a curious shape that somewhat resembled the face of a tiger.  He planned to sell it along with his other wares that weekend at the Saturday market in Rho.

            After a half hour or so of meticulous work, the artist was finished.  He examined it from different angles and was pleased.  He strung a cord through the small hole he had made near the top of the pendant and tied the ends into a knot. 

            As he sat the finished pendant in a basket with others like it, he smiled as he ran his thumb over the burned design.  He was a simple man.  Simple things pleased him.  He had neither fame nor fortune to his name, no family or friends to share his life with, no prospects of grandeur, but he was content.  Content with himself and his place in the world, however small that place would be.

            One pendant done, as many more as he could make before supper to go.

The second time I woke up, I was freezing cold.  My body was so numb that I almost couldn’t feel any pain.  Almost.

            I shifted, and my entire body began to crackle and sting as if a thousand needles of burning ice were being stabbed into my skin.  If one has ever had a body part “fall asleep,” he can imagine a lesser version of the sensation.

            I could… use my power… to… find help… I thought.  No.  I couldn’t do that.  I didn’t have the energy, or any sense of where I should go.

            But I was dying.  I knew I was dying, and I needed help.

            I tried to focus all the energy I had to my core.  If I was going to teleport, I needed to transform, first.  The thought of transforming at that moment was horrific.  Transforming was already a painful experience.  Along with my injuries, it could have meant my death.

            I waited a while.  For what, I did not know.  The pain would not go away.

            So I transformed.

            My screams pierced the silence of the forest, but I managed.  I was no longer a wolf.

            Every part of me throbbed so violently that I lost consciousness again.

Kunsu heard a scream from somewhere outside, and it startled him.  The source didn’t seem to be very close, but the echo had somehow managed to reach his ears through the sounds of the rain.

            He sat down his tools and listened for any other sounds; his heart beating faster in his chest. 

            The last time he had heard a scream like that, his family had been taken and murdered by the wolves.

            He had spent a lot of time, bending and twisting the earth around his house to fashion a natural barrier of sorts for himself and what remained of his family’s belongings.  He had even saved up enough to hire a caster to place a spell upon his house; a spell that made the building undetectable by lycans.

            Taking a deep breath, he got up.  He just had to take a peek outside and make sure nobody within his vicinity of care was hurt.  That was all.  He fastened a sword to his belt, wrapped a cloak around himself, and lit a lantern to take out.

            He stood outside his house, still within the range of the protective spell.  His eyes scanned the forest. 

            Nothing out of the ordinary.

            Kunsu sighed.  Something wasn’t right.  He could feel it, but he just couldn’t see it.  He decided that he should venture out further.  He was well prepared to fight the wolves, if need be. 

            If someone needed his help, he would be there to give it.

As much as I didn’t think it to be possible, the pain was fifty times worse the next time I was conscious.  My skin was cold and wet with rain; the ground beneath me was slick with wet leaves and all I could hear was the rain hitting those leaves, and the incessant ringing in my head.

            I felt as if I was in a state of pain that would never end.  It just kept pulsing as I breathed.  In, out.  I had to physically and mentally prepare myself before taking each breath.

            Then, I sensed something.  Suddenly, I could sense someone.  Smell someone.  My heightened senses perceived a human male, only a few miles away.  Across the river, at the base of a grassy hill.

            I had to do it.  If I was going to survive—to live—I had to