A/N: So guess what? I've returned! But so has Liam and his werewolf hunting gang- this time with a information from an unwitting source (It's the exiled Alric, just to specify).


Liam gripped the tranquiliser gun tighter, a mix of adrenaline and fear rushing through him. The car trundled along, sending clouds of dust up behind it. It was a shabby old thing, probably as old as the Driscoll's themselves. Every bump in the road rattled it around, and the trip was far from nice. Neither Jimi or Sam -who were sitting beside Liam- said anything. Their fists were clenched, staring out the windows at the wilderness beyond.

A few hours ago, as if by fate, a man had turned up at the Mottled Poppy gas station. He was -according to Bob- wild looking, with jagged teeth and an angry expression. He had wandered around the shop randomly before stumbling up to the counter, clutching his ears and demanding to be taken to Stoneybridge. Immediately, the poppies in their little glass vase had changed colour; the man was a werewolf.

Bob offered to take the man where he needed to go, though instead he drove him to Harfire Hall, trapping him in the barred cellar down below. The werewolf had rambled on madly for several minutes, screaming about walls closing in and exile, among other things. And so a discovery was made. There was a werewolf pack up north- and the Driscoll's knew where to find it.

"Are you sure this is the right thing to do?" Jimi asked, in a hushed voice so the Driscoll's wouldn't hear.

"What do you mean?" Liam replied.

"Hunting werewolves. Why do we even need these guns? We're not going to shoot one, are we?"

"Course not. It's to threaten them with- we're not actually going to shoot them. Just capture them. They're only tranquiliser guns."

"Still, I don't get what the point of this is."

Liam glared at Jimi.

"I thought you agreed to come with us." He said angrily. "If you're going to chicken out now-"

"Jimi's got a point though." Sam interrupted. "We've already got one werewolf. Why are we going off to capture more?"

"Why are you guys so against this?"

They didn't say anything, lapsing into silence once again.

"Here's the turnoff!" Mary said happily. They all got out, unpacking equipment. The boys carried a very large cage on their shoulders, and they walked through the woods, following the signs the werewolf had talked about. Liam could feel his friends uneasiness, even as excitement was pumping through his veins. He imagined yellow eyes staring at them through the trees, the growl of werewolves about to attack, and shivered.

They trudged on for what seemed like an hour before they got to the old rock the werewolf had unwittingly told them about. Mrs Driscoll pressed her finger to her lips, pointing. Liam felt his skin crawl. Over the top of a log, a pair of yellow eyes shone back at him.


Meinir ducked down behind the log.

"They've invaded our territory!" She snarled. "We should attack now, before it is too late!" Aran growled.

"They have guns. We should warn the others. We cannot fight humans on our own."

"Attack!"

Aran stuck his head over the log quickly, and stiffened. "No! They are coming this way! We must warn the others and hide!"

"They are coming?" Meinir repeated in fear. Aran nodded, watching her weigh the consequences. If the humans had guns and knew the pack was, there was no point fighting. A cub quickly learnt not to fight something that was bigger than itself, and that had been drilled into the siblings for years.

"Fine," Meinir said at last. "We warn the pack and then we hide."

"Good. Now we run."

They got up, ditching the safety of the log and running through the trees to the camp over the hill. There was a whistling sound and a thud. With a spike of fear, Aran span around to see Meinir hit the ground, unconscious. What kind of bullets were they, that they made Wolfbloods unconscious? The humans were aiming the gun at Aran now, so he shot off to the camp, vowing that he would get help for Meinir once the pack had been warned.

"Humans!" He yelled. "Humans over the hill! They are coming! They have a gun!" Everyone looked up, shock plastered on their faces.

"I told you something bad was going to happen!" Ceri shouted. Gwyn and Cadwr were shepherded away from the camp towards the dimly lit forest.

"We need to hide." Aran choked, as he stumbled down to camp. "Get everyone into the woods. Now."

Aran could smell the mounting fear, the increasing heartbeats of his pack. Worse than that, he could hear the pounding footsteps of the humans. If Alric had been here he would have known what to do… No. Alric had been exiled for a reason. The human steps got louder, and soon all Aran could think of was those strange guns and Meinir falling down. The pack scrambled towards the shelter of the trees, hiding under branches and blending in with the autumn leaves. He darted in with them, his breathing loud and heavy.

"Aran-" someone began, but he growled at them.

The pounding got louder, faster; humans appeared over the ridge of the hill. A woman, a man and a boy. They scanned the area, taking in the abandoned tents and scattered belongings. What had happened to Meinir? Aran worried. What had happened to his sister?

And -he barely dared to think of it- What would happen to his pack?


Liam stood there, feeling vulnerable without his musket. He only vaguely knew how to use a tranquiliser gun, and his previous confidence was slowly dwindling. Liam glanced nervously around the deserted tents fluttering in the breeze. Everything seemed so quiet

"They have to be in the woods." Bob said at last, searching for yellow eyes or a flash of fur. "They know we're here."

"What do we do?" Liam asked, trying to stop his voice from shaking. Bob didn't answer.

The trees ringing the clearing were dark and foreboding. No birds chattered. Nothing rustled in the undergrowth. Liam could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribcage. His eyes picked out the footprints leading out to the woods. There were so many…

In the blink of an eye, Bob Driscoll shot a tranquiliser dart through the trees, directly in front of him. There was an ear-splitting yelp, and all hell broke loose.

Werewolves darted out randomly, snarling and growling. Some tried to run into the forest again, but the Driscoll's aimed their guns at them. Liam reminded himself that the werewolves were monsters, but the echoes of Sam and Jimi's words remained. Everything was going so fast. Liam tried to aim his gun but he couldn't pinpoint where the werewolves were. Something ran towards him, howling ferociously. Fur sped past him, yellow eyes leaped out at him and Liam was pinned to the ground by a werewolf. It bared its teeth and all Liam could feel was terrible fear. His tranquiliser gun had been knocked out of his hands and lay several feet away. He was going to die.

The werewolf opened its mouth, revealing sharp teeth and- stopped. It let out a sigh, almost a wail, and collapsed, unconscious. Liam hastily wriggled out from under it.

"Thanks." He panted, seeing the tranquiliser dart poking out from the thing's left paw. Mary Driscoll nodded and continued to knock the last few remaining werewolves out.

Liam gulped. The clearing looked like a battleground, the unconscious werewolves (some of them in human form) like corpses. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he rushed behind the ridge of the hill.

When he had stopped vomiting (Sam and Jimi thankfully weren't there) he headed back up to the hill. Sam and Jimi had taken a different route over the hill, now standing there next to the cage with its gleaming metal bars.

Deep inside Liam, something was telling him this was wrong.

Deep inside Liam, something was telling him that proving the existence of werewolves might not be the best idea.

Deep inside Liam, something was telling him that Abraham Hunter might not have been the role model Liam had previously thought.

Liam pushed the thoughts away, struggling not to let his lunch come up again.

The Driscoll's were carrying the werewolves over to the cage. There must have been ten or so of them -Liam was sure there must have been more of them, but something prevented him from pointing this out- and not all of them were adults. As Mary and Bob dragged a young, blond-haired boy from a gap between the trees, Liam stopped, his heart pounding. The thoughts that had been clouding his brain since the conversation in the car came into focus. The werewolf didn't look like a werewolf. He looked like a six-year-old.

A six-year-old that they'd shot.

Liam made his way over to Jimi and Sam. Their faces were stony.

"Maybe…" Liam began, his voice trembling. "Maybe you were right."

"About what?" Sam asked, his tone flat.

"Maybe this isn't the right thing to do."

There was no answer. The clearing was still and quiet.

Mary Driscoll slammed down the door to the cage with a bang, breaking the silence. Liam, Jimi and Sam jumped and spun around, only to come face to face with a furious, glaring Mary. Who was angrily holding a tranquiliser gun.

"You three!" She barked "You are not going to leave! We may have gotten our werewolves but there are still more out there! These werewolves-" she spat out the word "-are not people, they are monsters! They are dangerous. And if you dare threaten our mission, if you at all come in our way," Mary lowered the tranquiliser gun and was joined by Bob -the result was menacing and spoke of power-"You might just go missing. Forever."

Liam gulped.

Yes, maybe this hadn't been the right thing to do.


A/N: I seem to remember making a commitment a very long time ago that I would update that Tuesday...

Heh...heh...heh... oops.

In my defence, I've been assailed by everything from countless school assessments to writers block. I've also been staring at this chapter for a long time. I don't like it too much, so I'd be incredibly happy if anybody wanted to put any constructive criticism in the reviews. So please review!

Hopefully I'll update soon! :)