Hey All! Happy St. Patrick's Day for all those who celebrate. Hope you enjoy the chapter. Thanks again for all the lovely comments and support. This story has now reached over 100 favorites, which simply blows me away! Thank you, thank you, thank you!

The spirit plane was unlike anything Blade could have ever imagined.

He stood atop a high rise building, a giant water tower at his back and the city spread out before him, his gaze curiously sweeping his surroundings. Everything nearby appeared in sharp detail, the colors bright and vibrant so as to almost hurt his eyes. In contrast, things in the distance seemed blurred and undefined, no matter how hard he squinted. It was almost like looking at a watercolor painting, the details bleeding together and dripping from the edges of the canvas.

It was also completely quiet, the normal hustle and bustle of the city eerily absent. There were no cars speeding by on the streets below, no people walking the sidewalks or hanging out their apartment windows, no horns blaring or dogs barking, no pigeons pecking around on the rooftops…nothing. The unnatural silence was more than a little disconcerting, and he suddenly had the inexplicable urge to let out a shout, just to see if the sound would echo back to him.

Sensing a presence with him on the rooftop, Blade turned to find Splinter standing a few feet away, surveying the scene around him with a curious gaze.

"So this is the spirit plane." Blade commented, wincing at how loud his voice sounded in the resounding silence around them. "Is it always like this?"

Splinter turned to look at him, a small smile playing at his mouth. "The spirit plane is unique to each individual," he replied easily. "For me it is a lot less physical and more a place of impressions; warmth, calm, peace. I can make it take on physical attributes if I so desire, but I honestly have not done so in many years."

Blade frowned, considering Splinters words. "So this…," he gestured vaguely around him, "…is something I'm creating?"

The old rat nodded, his gaze continuing to take in their surroundings. "Indeed," he murmured. "The spiritual plane is, after all, simply a place within your own mind."

"But it feels so real," Blade breathed. He squinted out into the blurry distance, the unnatural silence settling around him once more like a second skin. "Physically, anyway," he added. "So where are we?"

Splinter arched one eyebrow, moving forward to stand beside him. "You are the one who brought us to this place. Shouldn't I be asking you that question?"

Shifting uncertainly, Blade scanned the area around him once more, searching for anything that might tell him exactly where they were…and why. "I don't recognize anything," he finally admitted. "I have no idea where we are."

Splinter hummed thoughtfully. "In that case, perhaps I can be of some assistance," he murmured, pointing down the street toward a plane looking brownstone apartment building. "That apartment is the home of our human friend, April O'Neil. Though I have never been on this particular rooftop myself, I am guessing that it is probably a rendezvous point for you and your brothers when you are out on patrol."

Blade stared at his father in surprise, the import of what Splinter was saying not lost on him. "But I don't remember it," he whispered, stunned. "None of it. If this place is supposed to be a creation in my own mind, how would I know to bring us here?"

Splinter regarded him with a small smile, his dark eyes sparkling with an inner light. "How indeed?" he answered softly.

Blade slowly shook his head, staring around him with new eyes. He still didn't recognize anything, but obviously his subconscious did, and that caused hope to flare anew inside his chest. He remembered what Mikey had said to him several days ago during their trek home through the tunnels; something about the information still being there, just out of his reach for the time being. It seemed his brother may have been right.

"So where do we go from here?" he asked, more than ready to begin this journey, find his center, and get his life back once and for all.

Splinter regarded him for a long moment before giving his head a slight shake. "This is your journey Leonardo. I will help you as I can, but I am afraid that you and only you can find what you seek."

Blade sighed, not entirely surprised by the answer. Turning his gaze back out to the city before him, he struggled not to feel overwhelmed. Splinter had warned him this would take time, but he was just beginning to fully comprehend the enormity of the task before him. With no conscious memories to guide him, he had no idea where to even begin to look, and as vast as the real city was, he had the feeling that this spiritual place was even more so.

As if reading his thoughts, Splinter spoke again. "Do not be discouraged, my son. You must let your spirit guide you, just as it guided you here to this rooftop. Wander this place and learn what it has to teach you, and when the time is right, I believe you will find what you are searching for."

Nodding slowly, Blade did another careful scan of his surroundings. If his subconscious had brought him here, to a place that had obviously held importance to Leo, then who knew what else it had in store for him? He had to admit, he was curious to find out. Even if he didn't find his center right away, the process itself promised to be educational and enlightening.

Letting instinct take over, Blade closed his eyes and cleared his thoughts, prepared to let his subconscious guide him to the next step on this journey.

Mikey was admittedly more than a little distracted as they raced across the rooftops to meet up with Casey in the north part of town. He had no idea what was awaiting them, but instinct told him it would be unlike anything they had ever faced before. He could feel his adrenaline pound through his blood as he ran, tinged with just a hint of nervous apprehension.

It wasn't that he was afraid this new challenge would be too much for them. He had full confidence in himself and his brothers. He just knew that this was going to be big, and he couldn't help but wish that Leo was here with them.

He kept replaying the scene back at the lair over and over again inside his head. He was relieved things hadn't become physical between his two oldest brothers. Leo was just beginning to trust them again, and something like that would have definitely put a strain on the newly reforming relationship. He understood why Raph had forbidden Leo to come, and he knew his temperamental brother was probably right, but that didn't stop him from wishing things could be different. Over the last few months they had learned to fight together again as a new team, but it still didn't feel quite right, especially now that he knew Leo was still alive. He just wanted things to go back to the way they used to be.

If he had to guess, he would say Raph and Donnie felt the same way. Donnie kept giving tiny glances back over his shoulder, as though expecting Leo to show up behind them despite his promise to stay home. Raph was carefully focused on the task ahead, his shoulder's stiff and his expression hard, but Mikey knew his brother well enough to detect the hint of regret buried deep in those green eyes.

It was frustrating, knowing their family was slowly piecing itself back together, but their team was still as broken as before. Maybe he was being greedy, but Mikey wanted them both fixed. He was sure Splinter would give him some wise saying about time and patience, but that didn't help them right now. That didn't help them tonight, when their brother's absence seemed as much a gaping hole as the first night they had ventured up top without him.

Mikey forcibly pushed his troubled thoughts to the back of his mind as they met up with Casey on a high rooftop just south of the Bronx. The sound of sirens and the smell of smoke had become noticeable several blocks back, but even so Mikey wasn't completely prepared for the scene laid out below him.

The streets beneath them looked like something straight from a war movie. The flashing lights of police vehicles seemed to be everywhere, bouncing off buildings and up into the night sky like some macabre light show. The shrill cry of car and store alarms joined with the wail of sirens to create an overwhelming cacophony of sound. Several of the nearby stores had windows broken out, the glass lying in glittering piles across the sidewalks and spilling into the streets. A thin haze of smoke hung in the air, and in the distance the bright glow of several fires was unmistakable against the black backdrop of night.

Standing together at the edge of the roof they stared down at the chaos, silently overwhelmed by the sheer scope of it all.

"It gets even worse a few blocks from here," Casey informed them, his voice grim. "The gangs are out in force, brawling, rioting, and looting, and not necessarily in that order. The cops have brought in everyone they can, but they're still ridiculously outnumbered."

As if to punctuate his words the distant pop of gunfire rose over the noise of alarms and sirens, punching through the night in a quick staccato before falling silent once more.

"Civilians?" Raph growled, his hands clenching the hilts of his Sais in a white knuckled grip.

"Most of them were smart enough to run for cover once it all began," Casey replied evenly, "but not everyone's going to be able to get clear. As you can see, the gang's pyromaniacs have come out to play as well."

"So what's the plan, Raph?" Mikey asked, shifting restlessly from foot to foot as he stared at the distant glow of what had to be a fairly large fire. He remembered Casey's earlier assessment that it was the innocent civilians that were always hurt the worst in this kind of situation. It looked like the vigilante's words were already proving to be true.

Raph took in a deep breath, doubt and uncertainty playing across his features for a brief moment before being replaced by a look of hard determination. "We'll spread out and sweep the area block by block—help any civilians in trouble and try and pick off as many gang members as we can along the way."

It was a simple plan, but considering the chaos below them, simple seemed somehow better. It was painfully obvious that this mess was far too big for them to put a stop to altogether, but that didn't mean they couldn't still do something. From the looks of things, the cops could certainly use all the help they could get.

"What if we're seen?" Donnie asked softly. "I don't care about the gang members, but there's an awful lot of cops roaming around down there too."

Before Raph could reply a sharp scream pierced the night from somewhere on the street directly below them, and a woman dressed only in a thin nightgown tore from the shadows of a nearby building. Hot on her heels was a bulky figure, and as the duo passed beneath one of the street lamps below it became apparent that the pursuer was wearing a furry costume of some sort.

Mikey automatically reached for his Chucks, tensing in preparation to leap to the woman's aid, but before he had the chance a police cruiser tore around the corner, approaching from the other end of the street. Seeing the flashing lights, the costumed assailant immediately turned tail and fled down an adjacent street, leaving the frightened woman to collapse against the police car in a sobbing heap.

"What the hell was that?" Raph demanded, every muscle in his body tensed.

"That's the fourth wolf costume I've seen since I got here," Casey growled in response. "Just another way these sickos are trying to terrify and intimidate, though if you ask me it just makes them look ridiculous."

Mikey nodded his agreement. He thought applying the word "wolf" to the man's costume was being pretty generous. The man had looked more like an overgrown gerbil to him.

Donnie let out a small grunt, his expression turning thoughtful. "That might actually work to our favor," he mused softly. "If we're careful and stick to the shadows like we're used to, anyone who does happen to see us will probably just assume we're another of those costumed freaks."

Mikey let out an indignant snort. "I think I might just resent that comparison," he stated with a tone of carefully constructed disdain. "We're not costumed freaks! We're the real deal, and proud of it!"

"Yeah well, be proud of it later," Raph snapped. "For now, just try to attract the least amount of attention as possible. Got that shell-head?"

"Got it," Mikey replied easily. "But we might have to do some self-esteem building exercises once were home, just saying."

Raph rolled his eyes but chose not to reply, instead leading the way over to the metal fire-escape that would bring them down to the streets below. "Once we're down, fan out and head north," he ordered gruffly, "but don't get too far apart. If you run into any kind of trouble, just whistle." He paused with one leg thrown over the side of the roof, his expression as serious as Mikey had ever seen it. "And keep an eye out for the real wolves," he added softly. "Something tells me they'll be out and about, and as much as I want to deal with them once and for all, tonight's not the night."

Mikey couldn't help the small shiver that ran down his spine at his brother's words. He was glad Raph wasn't planning on actively pursuing the creatures. They would have their hands full enough just dealing with all the gangsters, he didn't want to have to worry about the mutant wolves on top of that. He knew it was a problem they would have to deal with sooner or later, but right now…later was just fine for him.

As a ninja master, Splinter was well used to spending hours at a time in meditation with little ill effect. Still, it was admittedly much more difficult to follow someone else in their spirit plane than to visit your own, and he could tell that he was quickly growing weary. The edges of his form occasionally flickered, like a candle in a soft breeze, a true sign that it was probably time to call it quits for the night.

And yet he didn't immediately speak, watching silently as his eldest son walked around the abandoned warehouse they currently found themselves in. They had been flittering in a seemingly aimless fashion from one location to the next for a couple hours. Some of the places Splinter recognized and some he did not. Each new location Leonardo would look to him for an explanation, and when he could, Splinter would offer up what he knew of the place. His son would listen, and then spend the next several minutes exploring the area around him, obviously hoping that something in his mind would kick into place and he would remember where he was.

It was a sound enough tactic in Splinter's mind, and he'd been content to patiently follow Leonardo's lead. His son had been eager enough to start out with, exploring each new place with patient curiosity. But as time wore on with no obvious progress, he had grown more and more frustrated and irritable.

Splinter had tried to warn him that this would take time, but it was one thing to understand something in your mind, and something else entirely to accept it in your heart, and Leonardo had never been one to take perceived failure lightly. Understanding this, Splinter had allowed the search to continue for much longer than he had originally intended, even knowing the strain and physical exhaustion it would cause for both of them in the end. He kept hoping something would happen that would let them end the night on a positive note, but he could only wait so long before he would have to admit defeat.

Releasing an inward sigh, Splinter turned his attention to the warehouse around him. It was one of the places he hadn't recognized, though for once Leonardo hadn't looked to him for an explanation. Judging from the sour expression on his son's face when they had first arrived, Splinter suspected he already knew this place. He couldn't be sure, but if he had to guess he would say this warehouse was probably the same one Leo had lived in with the wolf pack for the last six months, and from the looks of it, his son was not at all happy to be back here.

As if confirming this thought, Leonardo suddenly drew his sword and slashed out at a pile of boxes sitting in one corner of the warehouse, sending cardboard and other packing materials flying through the air. Splinter watched the rare display of temper with raised eyebrows, but chose not to say anything. Instead, he studied the sword gripped tightly in his son's right hand. A moment ago Leonardo had been unarmed. Now the harness that normally held the sheaths for his swords was strapped tightly to the back of his shell, but only one sheath was present. It was an interesting observation that Splinter wasn't quite sure what to make of. His son knew there were two swords, and yet his subconscious still conjured up only one. It said a lot about his current frame of mind.

"This is pointless," Leonardo hissed, staring at the mess of boxes in front of him, sword still held tightly in one hand. "We just keep wandering around and around, and I don't recognize any of it. It's just a stupid waste of time!"

Splinter released a soft sigh, watching as the edges of his son's form flickered and danced, reflecting the turtle's inner turmoil. "I think it is time we stop for the night," he replied quietly, his voice soft and gentle, meant to convey encouragement rather than reproof. "You must not think of tonight as a failure, my son, but merely the beginning steps of what might prove to be a very long journey. We will try again in a few days, when you are better rested."

Leonardo turned to look at him, and Splinter could see the reluctance warring within his son. Despite his outburst, it was obvious he wasn't yet ready to give up. He would push himself until he physically couldn't go any further and then, and only then, would he be willing to stop. It was this stubborn determination that both worried and pleased Splinter, depending on the situation. Right now it was definitely the former.

But Leonardo had promised to follow his instructions, and Splinter would hold his son to that promise whether he liked it or not. He would give his oldest a few days to recover and then they would try again. As long as Leonardo was willing to keep trying, Splinter would support and encourage him, no matter how long it took.

Opening his mouth to insist they leave, he paused as he noticed Leonardo's gaze slipping past him to something behind him, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. Whirling in place, he immediately spotted what had caught his son's attention, and he felt his own eyes widen slightly.

A thick black fog was beginning to creep its way toward them from across the warehouse floor, sending fingers of darkness twisting and curling out in front of it, as though searching for something. Watching its slow approach, Splinter felt a chill climb up his spine. There was something dark and malevolent about the fog, though he couldn't exactly place where those feeling were coming from.

"We must go," he stated firmly, not knowing what the fog was, but knowing they wanted no part of it.

Leonardo didn't respond, and Splinter turned to find that the fog was closing in from the other side of the warehouse as well, its searching fingers already curling around his son's feet. Instead of moving away, Leo was staring down at the swirling fog with an expression of nervous curiosity.

"Leonardo!"

The word snapped from Splinter's mouth, carrying with it his growing sense of alarm as the fog continued to climb its way up his son's frozen body. Leonardo's gaze jerked up to meet his own, and Splinter could see the first flickers of fear in his son's blue eyed gaze. He finally tried to move, stepping away from the dark fog only to have its black presence follow him, clinging to his body like a shadowy cloak, swirling around him and seeming to grow and swell with every passing moment.

Splinter started forward, not entirely sure how to help his son but determined to try. He had gone no more than two steps when he felt a sharp tugging at his waist. He glanced down to see a tendril of the black fog had wrapped itself around his torso and was slowly beginning to tighten, as though trying to hold him back.

Leonardo's sudden cry caused him to jerk his gaze upright once more, a gasp tearing from his throat when he realized the fog had almost completely enveloped his son. Leonardo was struggling to break free, but his movements seemed sluggish and weak, as though he were fighting under water.

"Fight this, my son," Splinter called, struggling forward once more despite the tendril of fog wrapped around his waist. "This is all from your mind. You must…"

He never had a chance to finish his sentence as he was suddenly and violently jerked backward. He had a brief sensation of flying through the air one moment, and then the next he was jerking face forward onto the thick woven rugs in his room, gasping out a startled breath.

It took a few moments to regain his balance, both mentally and physically. Being jerked from the spirit plane like that tended to leave one disoriented and confused, not to mention the killer headache he was sure to have later. Nonetheless, worry for his son caused him to push aside his own discomfort and lurch forward to where Leonardo knelt.

There was nothing about his son's outward appearance that would immediately indicate he was in distress, but when Splinter tried to gently draw him from his meditative trance, there was no response. No matter how much he called to his son, or how many times he shook him lightly by the shoulders, Leonardo remained firmly locked away within his own mind.

Fear wrapped its fingers around Splinter's heart, and it was only with some effort that he managed to push away the rising sense of panic. He had heard of people losing themselves within the spirit plane, locked away inside their minds while their physical bodies withered away. He had always taken great care in teaching his sons the proper practice and techniques of meditation, and normally he would not fear Leonardo becoming trapped. But his son was not himself at the moment. If he were to panic, it would become all too easy for him to forget everything Splinter had instructed him before they began.

Watching his son's physical form closely, Splinter felt his concern only growing. Leonardo showed no signs of waking from his trance, but a fine sheen of sweat soon appeared on his body, and his breathing was beginning to grow ragged. It was a worrisome sign that all was not well within the Spirit plane.

Releasing a low growl of frustration, Splinter fought to control his emotions. He had known it was too soon to try this, but he had allowed his son's pleading to sway him. Honestly, his own eagerness to see Leonardo's memories returned had played no small role in his decision as well. But now his son was in trouble, and Splinter wasn't at all sure how to help him. Intentionally or not, Leonardo had cast him from his mind, which would make finding a way back in extremely difficult, if not impossible.

Still, Splinter was determined to try. He didn't know what was happening to his son, but he knew Leonardo was in trouble, and he wasn't about to sit around and do nothing.

Settling down into a lotus position, he closed his eyes and steadied his breathing, preparing to journey back into the spirit realm despite his weariness. His final thought before slipping into meditation was a fervent prayer that his other sons were faring better than them.

Leaning back against the wall of the alley, Donnie let out a soft hiss of pain as he struggled to tighten a bandage high on his left arm with fingers made slick with blood. He'd been lucky. The punk shooting at him had been aiming over his shoulder as he ran away, and his shot hadn't exactly been accurate, merely grazing Donnie's arm. Still, it stung, and unless he could get the bleeding under control he wouldn't last much longer.

A noise from the mouth of the alley had him glancing up to see Raph stalking toward him, his expression dark. He stopped in front of Donnie, pushing his hand out of the way and taking over the task of tightening the bandage. "How bad is it?" he asked, his voice low and gruff.

"Just a graze," Donnie answered quickly. "Nothing a few stitches won't fix when we get back home."

Raph merely grunted, but some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. "I saw the punk aiming for you, but I was too far away to do anything about it," he growled, frustration evident in his voice. "Don't scare me like that again!"

"Sorry," Donnie muttered, only a hint of sarcasm in his voice. It wasn't like he had asked the guy to shoot at him! At the same time, he knew Raph was just worried, and his older brother tended to get a bit cranky when worried. "How are Mikey and Casey?" he asked, hoping to change the subject.

Raph shrugged, pulling the final knot in the bandage tight and taking a step back to survey his work critically. "They're alright. They're watching the alley for us so we don't have any unexpected company."

The distant sound of a small explosion echoed from several blocks away, and a moment later a police cruiser sped past the mouth of the alley, its siren wailing.

Donnie let out a deep breath, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the wall for a moment as he mentally prepared himself to head back out into the chaos.

He had no idea how long they had been caught in the middle of this hell—but it felt like an eternity. It wasn't easy—rescuing civilians trapped in burning apartments, freeing a store owner held at gunpoint as his shop was looted, whisking a little girl hiding all alone in an alleyway to the relative safety of nearby emergency workers, saving two officers being pummeled by a group of Dragons—all while trying to stay mostly invisible. He was already exhausted, and there was still a whole lot of night left.

A hand reached out and gripped his shoulder, and Donnie opened his eyes to look up into Raph's concerned face.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Raph asked softly.

Donnie gave him a tired smile and a nod, pushing the throbbing ache in his arm to the back of his mind. He'd had worse.

Raph didn't look entirely convinced, and Donnie was pretty sure that in any other situation his brother would have insisted he sit the rest of the fight out. But that wasn't really an option tonight. They were already laughably outnumbered, and despite their best efforts the situation just seemed to grow more and more out of control. It was taking everything they had just to protect the innocent civilians caught up in this madness while simultaneously taking out as many gangsters as possible. They were completely out of their depth, this entire situation so much bigger than the skirmishes and back alley brawls they were used to.

But it didn't matter. They were in it now, and there was no way they were going to leave. Casey had said turf wars like this tended to dissipate in daylight, which meant they just had to hold out for another…what?…five to six hours? Piece of cake, right?

Gently shaking free of his brother's hand, Donnie straightened and walked purposefully from the alley. No sense in putting off the inevitable. As he stepped out onto the sidewalk he caught a brief glimpse of Mikey hovering on a low rooftop across the street. The worry on his brother's face was obvious even from a distance, and Donnie offered him a single thumbs up as a sign that he was fine. Mikey gave a tight nod before turning away and disappearing into the night's shadows.

Taking another deep breath, Donnie turned and headed in the same direction, unsurprised when Raph followed closely on his heels. He was likely going to have a shadow for a while until Raph was convinced he truly was okay. He didn't really mind. They could cover a lot more ground if they split up, but it was still nice to have someone watching his back. His recent close call had shaken him more than he cared to admit.

They stuck to the shadows as much as possible, ducking into nearby alleys or behind trash bins whenever a cop car would drive by, all the while keeping their ears and eyes tuned for any signs of trouble. Typical for the evening, they didn't have to go far before they found it. A few streets down they came across over a dozen gang members opening brawling in the middle of the street, fists and curses flying through the air. After watching for a moment, they skirted around them, letting the thugs bash each other's heads in without interference.

Not much later the sound of breaking glass and raucous laughter led them around a corner into a dimly lit side street full of small shops and a few dingy apartments. A group of thugs were in the process of breaking out the front window of a TV repair shop, several of them dressed in the same ridiculous wolf costumes Donnie had been seeing all night.

Smothering a tired sigh, Donnie reached behind him and pulled his Bo free from its holster on his back, gripping the familiar wood tightly as he exchanged a quick glance with Raph. His brother gave him a tight nod, his eyes glinting with a familiar dangerous light that only spelled pain and trouble for the idiots waiting for them up ahead. Donnie returned the nod with a small one of his own, and together the two brothers silently made their way forward, the gangsters completely unaware of their approaching doom.

The fight, if it was fair to call it that, didn't last long. As usual Raph bowled right into the middle of the group, fists flying, not even bothering to remove his Sais from his belt. Donnie approached a little more cautiously, catching the thugs stumbling back and away from his brother's bold attack and laying them out with a few practiced flicks of his staff. It took less than two minutes to take the whole group down, and then they were on their way once more, leaving the trash behind for the police to pick up later.

And so the night continued, the hours dragging by agonizingly slowly. Periodically the four of them would all meet up together on some rooftop or down an alleyway, faces drawn and tired. Even Mikey's normally boundless energy and exuberance was dampened by a weary stoop to his shoulders, and soon Donnie wasn't the only one sporting a bloody bandage as exhaustion inevitably led to various acts of carelessness.

"This sucks," Casey observed some time later, staring over the edge of the roof they all were currently using to take a brief rest. "For every thug we put down, it seems there's ten more to replace him. Where are these guys coming from…holes in the ground?"

Raph muttered some kind of response, but Donnie wasn't really listening, resting his head back against the air vent he was sitting next to with eyes closed. He worked on keeping his breathing even and controlled, trying to ignore his aching muscles and the throbbing burn that had taken up permanent residence in his upper arm. He wasn't at all looking forward to all the stitching he would need to do once they got home, especially since he would much rather just fall into bed and sleep for a week.

He tried to mentally calculate how long they had before dawn, but in all the chaos he had honestly lost all sense of time. He knew it couldn't be that far off, and yet there was no sign the madness below was ready to abate. This was quickly turning out to be the longest night in his entire existence, and he just wanted it to be over.

"Guys!"

There was something in Mikey's voice that had Donnie alert and on his feet in the blink of an eye, his Bo staff held ready in front of him. He immediately located his little brother crouched at the far edge of the roof, his attention focused on something in the distance in front of him. Donnie moved toward him, followed by Raph and Casey. They all responded automatically when Mikey motioned at them to stay low, creeping up beside him and peering over the edge of the roof.

"What is it Mikey?" Raph asked gruffly, his tone full of weary resignation.

"3 o'clock," Mikey responded softly. "Two rooftops over."

Donnie looked where his brother had indicated, at first not seeing anything. Then something moved in the shadows on the rooftop—something huge, and Donnie felt the breath catch in his throat.

"Is it one of them?" Raph asked lowly, his eyes also pinned to the spot Mikey had indicated.

"I think so," Mikey replied softly. "I didn't get a good look at him, but I think it might be the black one."

"I don't see anything," Casey whined, only to be hushed by all three of them at once.

They stared at the spot on the roof, none of them moving, barely daring to breath. After what seemed an eternity the shadows shifted once more, the giant form of a mutated wolf finally materializing from the darkness as the creature stepped to the edge of the roof. His form was so dark as to almost blend perfectly with the night sky, and Donnie supposed the only reason they were able to see him at all was because of the dim orange glow from all the fires.

Casey let out a low curse, finally able to see what they were all looking at. "I forgot how freaking huge they were," he muttered sourly.

The wolf stood frozen at the edge of the roof, its snout lifted up into the air as though smelling for something. Donnie felt his stomach drop as he realized their position put them upwind to the creature. He had no way of knowing just how sharp their sense of smell was, but he guessed it was probably pretty good. He could only hope all the smoke in the air would help mask their scent, but knowing their luck, he somehow doubted it.

As if in direct confirmation of this last thought, the wolf slowly turned so it was facing their direction, snout still lifted in the air. Donnie felt a chill sweep down his spine, a sensation that intensified as the wolf released a low and eerie howl.

"Do you think it spotted us?" Mikey whispered, the worry in his voice evident.

Before anyone could reply, the wolf's mournful cry was echoed by several more howls, these ones coming from either side of them and one from the back. And close…so very close.

Casey swore again, this time with a bit more feeling, and for once Donnie agreed with the vigilante's assessment one hundred percent.

They were surrounded.

TBC

Okay, sorry for the double cliffy. I will definitely try not to make you wait a month for an update. Spring break is next week, so hopefully I'll have some free time to write, write, write. *Crosses fingers*

Hope you enjoyed. If so, please let me know by leaving a review. They are seriously my bread and butter!