Summary: Paris had never been known as a city where milk and honey flowed but it had taken care of itself and its people. Once the streets had been the veins, pulsing with life. Never empty, never quiet, never safe but always home. Then, things had changed dramatically and it had all begun with a few dead goats. Hurt!Athos. Hurt!d'Artagnan. Brotherly moments and smelly animals. No animal was harmed in the writing of this story which is loosely based on one of absolute favourite movies Le Pacte des Loupe (Brotherhood of the Wolf). It's dark and bloody in places. The story is ¾ in the making so I hope not to abandon in half-way. Encourage me and it will get easier. For me, that is. Definitely not for you.

Story has not been beta's so there's only me to blame. Have fun. Cahpter One will follow quickly. Promise!

Prolog

Darkness had seized Paris like a cold, hostile blanket that not even the meager number of torches could lift. The sporadic warm glow of light in a few windows didn't provide feelings of safety but distance and isolation, only adding to the feeling of loneliness and abandonment to the two little figures, who were striding quickly over the cold ground. Their little feet making crunchy noises on the frosted puddles and their trembling lips blowing milky white clouds into the freezing air.

"Attends," cried the little girl, stumbling over the poorly wrapped pieces of cloth, which were supposed to keep her feet warm. "'m not so fast." Her voice sounded nasal and she kept sniffing, wiping her runny nose on her filthy sleeve.

"Hurry!" snapped the boy, a little taller but still just a boy, not yet having lived through his tenth summer. "Why can' tya walk fasta?"

"Yar legs are much longer th'n mine, Philippe," the girl whined. "And 'm cold."

"So am I, don' be such a sissy!"

"Am not!", she answered indignantly when she finally caught up with him and together they crept on, staying as close to the walls as the mountains of snow pushed aside by countless feet and carriages allowed.

Somewhere in the darkness, church bells were tolling the ninth hour and a cat was hissing viciously in a nearby alley. When the two children rounded the next corner, it had gotten quiet again and they found themselves in a small courtyard with a huge old tree hovering in the middle, its naked branches hanging low like knotty fingers reaching out to grab them. The place was surrounded by shabby looking houses, the outskirts of the even shabbier area known as the Court of Miracles.

"Almost ther', Marie. See?" The boy tried to sound cheerful and took his little sister's fingers to pull her along.

"Phillipe…," the little girl whined and with an angry sigh the boy snapped at her.

"Stopit, Marie! We'e almost ther'."

"Bu'…," she began but the boy pulled on relentlessly, not looking left or right, just ahead. Only a few paces and they would have reached the entryway into the maze-like system of stairs and nukes and narrow alleyways leading into the heart of the Court, where there would be – if not a home – at least a crackling fire and kindred spirits sharing the misery that was their life.

The snapping of a twig stopped him in his tracks and his little sister bumped into his back with a yelp. He could hear her harsh breathing and felt her heart beating fast against his back.

"Phi…"

"Shht…," he interrupted her and stood unmoving, letting his gaze wander over their surroundings. Nothing. No dog barking, no cat hissing. Not even the sound of the wind whistling through the cracks of dilapidation or making the withered leaves of the long lost autumn dance.

Nothing.

The world had turned into a hunter, waiting in spiteful apprehension for its prey to realize they were about to be hunted.

"Run!" he gasped and bolted, clinging to his sister's hand and pulling her along. Only three steps he managed before her hand was ripped out of his grasp and he heard her scream. He whirled around but in the darkness merely saw her tiny shape being flung to the ground, feeble fingers trying to hold onto the rough grooves on the hard ground while something dragged her away into the dark. Something big, even in the dark. A huge lump of fur, claws, teeth and a deep rumbling growl that moved unnaturally fast.

"Marie!" he screamed and ran after her, watching in horror the way her seemingly weightless body bounced like a rag doll over the ground, gaining distance too fast for Philippe to catch up. He stumbled, fell hard and could only watch as she merged with the night, her screams swallowed, then gone.