In the light of a summer's sun, a little lamb lived in a pasture. He loved the spring because he was born in that time, he loved the grass, he loved his animal friends and he loved his mother more than anything in the world. In the world he lived in, there was not a care for anything. As he ran from the fence protecting his farm from outside predators, he came in for an incredible landing, rolling into a white puffball all the way into the shed where he lived.

But when he got up and turned around, he had noticed that midday had turned into midnight and with a tiring yawn, the happy little lamb joined his mother went to sleep, smug and confident and complacent that everything was what it was and what it will always be. For the rest of his life. Sleep, food and his mommy.

And yet…the worse was soon to come, the wind seemed to be on the dark side of nature followed by the empirical forces of evil. Then with an angry howl, a big, bad, black wolf burst from the mountain above the farm, surreptitiously seeking a midnight snack to satisfy his stomach, seeing how he had not eaten in a week. His eyes, right clean, left with a scar running down his lid, always remained awake. His teeth were as sharp as a snake. His fur and his soul were so unclean, you could not tell if it was 100% natural. The other sheep, all nestled so snug and comfy in the hay were now faced with a nightmare of garish deeds and the fear of having their lives hung by a thread. One by one, male sheep, female sheep and lambs all fell dead from being bitten by the sharp teeth of the wolf until he came upon the last meal: the little lamb's mother. The lamb's mother ran and she pranced all about while her son watched from the safety of the hay, but could not escape the wolf fighting back with only weapon he had: his teeth, which gripped her stomach and pulled off a twelve-inch layer of her white, wholly skin.

Instantly his mother gave a loud scream of pain as she fell on her right side and blood began to pour from the empty hole in her stomach.

"You bastard!" he screamed. "She was the only family I had and you killed her!"

The lamb charged at the wolf with all the anger in his tiny little body and pushed him to the wall as his head contacted his chest. Little did the lamb realize that two tiny stubs had grown out of his crown in less than a second and he charged again, the second blow offering a chance to transform the little lamb's body into a stronger one at an exponential rate. With this pace of speed, which was at least 48 miles per hour, the little white lamb had turned into a big, black ram, with horns that were as sharp as knives. He ran again and shut his eyes, screaming bloody murder in rage and waiting to bring an end to his mommy's murderer.

He stopped and opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was blood, a dark red blood that came from the big black wolf's chest where he struck. The wolf's mouth fell close to his mother's tail, and when the ram blinked his eyes, the hay of the farm had turn into someplace desolate and rocky. Even the walls of the barn were not there anymore. He turned around completely and he saw a small watering hole that was no more than two feet deep. Inside the reflected water, his own reflection was unnatural and almost impossible to believe.

The ram had transformed into an exact replica of the wolf he had successfully killed and the shame of his appearance overbearing him, he let out a frightened howl.

And that was when Chirin woke up in a cold sweat.

Everything he had seen was a dream, albeit a rather skewed version of the events that changed his life forever.

The wolf-ram balanced himself on the forward edge of the cliff as if he were the animal counterpart of a dark lord or even a great prince of the forest (or in his case mountain). Grey and non-photo blue clouds mounted the sky above him, clearing away after a storm. Silent and taciturn, he looked down at the two thousand below him. The wind moved, but did not blow anything away under the weak pressure of the gale…then the ram-wolf stared and listened.

There was a party of four…hikers, maybe hunters perhaps. He could see a large man flanked by two who were thin, a young, scruffy looking teen and a black German Shepard going in differing positions. The younger member of the party was out of sight, tagging along behind them.

"They say a ram lives up here on a big cliff," said the oldest. "A psychologically warped ram who thinks he's a wolf. Not a pretty picture."

"He must have been taken at birth," replied one of the thin men. "He was born a ram and was taken into the wolf's den to upset the balance of nature."

"There are hints of it everywhere," said the other thin man. "I even heard he was deprived of a mother's love. Maybe the wolf abused him, maybe he didn't."

"Whatever he is," said the teen. "He's just another misunderstood animal."

The ram-wolf's skin crawled.

"I wouldn't be too sympathetic," said the large man. "It might sound a bit cynical of me, but I can understand how an animal feels just by their emotions."

"That's not cynical," said the first thin man. "That's being aware."

"Is there a difference?" asked the second thin man. "I mean, no one can truly understand an animal unless if they spoke our language."

The wolf-ram's hooves dug into the ground. He could not believe what they were saying about him. Was he or that young teen to be taken seriously? Once he saw the teen's face, he was certain that it reminded him of younger, less black version of himself.

But as he craned his head to get a better view of the strangers on his territory, the large man said.

"Looks like we are in for some weather, we should head back."

And so they turned and started back, and the ram-formerly-known-as-Chirin was certain that they would meet again. This time he would be prepared to make certain that they would never invade his territory again. A wolf by the name of Wor had given him a twisted life, but it also made him capable of handling his own enemies by himself.