Writer's Note: The story is not abandoned. I got a proper block on this chapter, hence it's shortness. I was hoping if I waited a better linker would come to me but, alas, it didn't and I want to round up the rest of this fic.


The sun beamed down fiercely over the battlements of the Friendly Arm Inn, where the party had arranged to rendezvous with Freya's friend from Candlekeep. As they passed the portcullis to meet this Imoen, a guard pulled them aside and warned the adventurers that fighting in the keep was strictly forbidden.

"That means no bursting into my room dagger-drawn, Safana," grinned Freya. The sunlight glinted off her teeth in a dazzling smile. She looked around to find the guard gazing at her with the sort of gormless dreamy expression that her elevated charisma often brought out in people. Despite having never set eyes on her before, all his instincts were telling him that the tall, golden stranger was in charge of everything. "At ease soldier," she said.

Freya raised her nose and sniffed around. With the aroma of hay, cowdung and ash, this place smelled homely, similar to Candlekeep. Except that there was a great deal more alcohol sloshing around and the occasional waft of perfume from the more well-to-do visitors. Safana sidled up to her to apologise for her earlier outburst.

"I am sorry about that," said Safana, only slightly abashed.

"Nah, no worries," Freya brushed it off. "It's not like you'd be the first of Coran's lovers to try and kill me."

"Oh?" Safana perked up curiously. "Pray tell?"

Coran darted hastily in front of the two women, waving his hands repressively and blocking their path across the courtyard. Unheard of for the elf, he was actually looking shamefaced under his green mask. This only peaked the other thief's interest more.

"Safana does not need to hear that story!" Coran cut in hastily, shaking his head. The auburn hair on the side he wore long danced and twitched, as awkward as its owner.

"Why not? It was hilarious!" cried Freya.

"A sexual conquest of which Coran is not proud?" gasped Safana in mock-shock. "This I must hear!"

She stood on tiptoe to place her folded hands and chin on the werewolf's broad shoulder, fluttering her eyelashes wickedly at the elf. Coran groaned. Well, at least Freya had got onto this subject before they met their new companion and not after.

"Ok. So, you know a while before we met you Coran and I visited this island of werewolves, right?" Freya began.

"Yes, yes. You learned lots about your hairy kinsfolk. It was very formative for you," Safana drawled in a bored voice.

"There was a cultural misunderstanding," said Coran repressively, as though that ended the conversation. Freya smirked and nodded at this accurate, but understated, description of the situation.

"Let me guess," Safana sneered at him. "Their way of saying 'hello' is to sniff each others' butts and Coran took it as an invitation? Or did he bang the Alpha female?"

"Oh worse, so much worse," grinned Freya with relish.

"He banged the Alpha male?"

"No! And I take exception to the implication that that would have been worse," Freya retorted, silencing the thief. "See, as well as werewolves, the island is also home to wolfweres. They're kinda like reverse-werewolves. So full moon comes around and we all turn into wolves, but all the wolves on the island turn into humans, right? Now picture this, Coran comes face to face with this pretty naked woman in full-heat, throwing herself at him for no apparent reason. I'm on all fours with the rest of the pack chasing boar around the island, I can't warn him. So, guess what this dumbass did?"

"Fucked the werewolf I expect," shrugged Safana. "A good time had by all. So what?"

"That's what I thought at the time," muttered Coran, rubbing an old scratch-scar ruefully.

Freya goggled at them, her grey eyes as wide as a puppy's.

"So what?" she echoed in disbelief. "Did you not hear what I just said? It was a wolfwere, not a werewolf!"

"But she was in human form at the time," frowned Safana, still failing to see the problem.

"Firstly, I didn't know that she was a wolfwere…" snapped Coran defensively.

"Coran, my friend, I consider myself unselective bordering on desperate," grinned Freya, clapping her companion on the shoulder with her broad palm. "But even I would ask questions if a naked woman I had never met before in my life showed up out of nowhere and propositioned me. Coran didn't even bother to ask her name!"

"…and secondly I didn't know that it was such a bloody taboo for you people!" he finished angrily.

"Why is it taboo?" asked Safana.

Freya shook her head. From the perspective of a werewolf the reasons for not mating with wolfweres were too blindingly obvious to require any explanation.

"How can I put this?" sighed Freya, scratching her head. "What would you guys think if I transformed, trotted off into the woods and shagged an actual wolf?"

"Yuk!" Safana summed it up succinctly.

"But we'd both be in the same form," pointed out Freya. "So, by your logic, no problem."

"I think I'm starting to see the problem," drawled Safana.

"The werewolf pack definitely saw a problem!" laughed Freya emphatically. "We get back from our hunt the next morning, and there's Coran, fast asleep being spooned by a wolf. I laughed so hard I reckon I cracked a rib! He was damn lucky that the pack Alpha had taken a shine to me, he stopped them tearing Coran to shreds right there and then. But we still had to get off that island fast!"

"What happened to the wolfwere?" asked Safana.

"We took her back to the mainland with us," mumbled Coran, shamefacedly.

"Took 'it' with us," corrected Freya. "They'd have killed it otherwise, which seemed a bit unfair because it wasn't like it knows the difference between right and wrong. As soon as we were off the island though, the ungrateful bloody creature turned on me! Didn't like another female hanging around 'her' mate. I had to knock Lanfear out, then we released it into the wild and ran like hell before it woke up again. So, yeah. Upshot is, I've been attacked by Coran's lovers before. And don't get me started on Brielbara…"

"Oh, this one I know about," smirked Safana. "She had his baby."

"I still reckon she did that on purpose y'know," mused Freya.

"Oh, always the woman's fault!" snapped Safana. "It takes two to tango you know!"

Fortunately for Freya, she was saved from having to answer this by the appearance of Imoen. The pink-haired girl was so delighted to see her Bhaalspawn that she practically tackled her in the midriff. On her travels she too had picked up new friends and to her alarm, Freya found herself engulfed in a group hug with Imoen, a giant berserker whom she had never met and, for some reason, a hamster.

At once the pair of them began to implore Freya to come South with them to rescue the man's friend, Dynaheir, from a gnoll keep. Her other thieves objected. They felt strongly that the party should focus on freeing Coran from the girdle. Yet Safana was soon swayed by the prospect of a keep full of treasure and even Coran did not need too much persuading of the merits of rescuing a beautiful damsel in distress.

The Gnoll Keep proved both profitable and of little challenge, and to her delight Freya obtained another Tome of Charisma. It raised her capacity to influence people from merely obscenely high to a level never seen in Faerun before outside of the court of Queen Ellesime.

Their new friends proved useful in other ways too. Freya had always had to chain herself up in seclusion at full moon. Safana would not go near her leader in canine form with a ten-foot spear for fear of earning a face full of slobber and Coran had to keep his distance or risk being torn limb from limb. Minsc, on the other hand, was burdened by neither fear nor common sense. He was strong enough to extricate himself from the creature's jaws if needs be and his hamster, Boo, turned out to be a calming influence on the werewolf. It transpired that in canine form she had strong parental instincts and treated the hamster as her own puppy.

Of course Minsc and Boo could not shield her from all the hazards of a werewolf transformation, and the morning after she returned to camp in a ragged towel with sore red eyes and a fish-like pout.

"What's the matter with you?" snapped Safana.

"Ayeayte abeey," Freya mumbled through her puffy swollen lips.

"I beg thine pardon?" Dynaheir said. "Art thou trying to sound an incantation?"

"Did you eat another bee?" asked Imoen sympathetically. Freya nodded her great golden head forlornly and plucked a stinger out of her gums with the other hand. Coran suppressed a smile. As she limped back to her tent to find her clothes he whispered to Safana; "This happens a lot at full moon. The wolf chomps down on passing bees and they sting the inside of her mouth. She always looks so sad and confused after… but she never learns."

"Dumb mutt," sighed Safana.

Back in Baldur's Gate, Skie and Eldoth were bemoaning their lost opportunity and discussing the werewolf and her blighted party. At the very least, Skie insisted, they ought to try to obtain the girdle before Duke Silvershield noticed its absence. It was a valuable magical artefact and a family heirloom after all.

"We could just ask for it back," Skie suggested. "I didn't get the impression that Coran exactly wanted it."

"Then what's to stop her trying to throttle me again?" argued Eldoth. "You can't reason with monsters! Look what she did to the Iron Throne. She's lucky she was thrown out of the city before they found Captain Scar's corpse, or the Flaming Fist would have hanged her. She's a wanted murderer!"

"I think she's sweet," Skie said lightly.

"Could the gods have cursed me with a stupider woman?" sighed Eldoth, exasperated. "Read my lips Skie; you two are not friends! You are blackmailing her best friend. She wants to eat your boyfriend. That makes you enemies!"

"Can't you two just try to get along?" Skie pouted.

"Can't you just get yourself a real dog?" Eldoth sneered. "It'd smell better."

He fingered his dark, oily moustache, thinking. After a while a cunning gleam lit up in his eye. He leaned forward and gave Skie a moist, tonguey kiss.

"Why don't you run along and get your nails fixed dearest," he smarmed greasily. "And don't you worry your pretty vacuous little head. I'll take care of everything."