By the time I had traversed the trail in question twice, I was getting worried. There was no sign of the child, not even around the town. It was a great risk that I took, running around the outskirts, nose to the ground, but it needed to be done. I had to find the scent of the child...Besides, all the townspeople were either working the mines, sleeping, searching for the child in question, or drunk. I growled to myself from where I stood atop a hill, looking down over the colony and the wilderness beyond. I should have been able to pick up his scent in the town, but even that had been denied to me. How could a child vanish like that?!
The wolf inside of me agreed with the Nord, whining. Pups don't have the power to vanish. Not even those who knew magicka; they were too young, and not powerful enough to work the spells that would cause them to instantly move from place to place. But with that being said, the child was still missing, and for once, the wolf sympathized and agreed with the Nord's worries. Few knew how much care wolves lavished on their pups, but care for them the wolves did. The death or vanishing of such a pup was a disaster.
I growled under my breath again as I picked up the scent of the searchers returning, and sank back into the shadows to watch. They came, torches high, steps weary, the scent of defeat and the rank smell of fear washing off them. Even before I looked over their number to be sure, I knew that there was no Breton child with them. They had tried, but they had failed, forced to return before the creatures of the night found them. I threw back my head and howled, crying my fury to the heavens above and the earth and creatures below. It wasn't fair! A child who had done no wrong, lost in the wilds of a wild island, likely to be killed before dawn by some creature or another, and I could not help without getting myself kill! Wait...
Who said that I couldn't? The wolf and the Nord, the two sides of me, agreed for the first time in many long years; the child must be found, and returned to its kin. I could search on my own...no!
I could have the entire population of werewolves search. I knew all them by name and by scent; many were innocents of the curse like me, who would want this one chance to be what they were before they became werewolves. They would want to be the heroes, not the villains. As for the others, well...most of them I could bully into following my orders: the few that I couldn't, someone else on my side could, or they would ignore us and we would ignore them. It was a perfect, foolproof plan. And I needed to get started now, before the night waned further.
And so I lifted my gaze to the stars above and howled again, this time long and loud, knowing that the ones forming into a pack for a hunt many miles away would hear me. I sang the news I had heard; that the Breton child Hethan was missing, and that the searchers had found nothing. But then—and here a tinge of laughter entered my voice—what else could one expect from those of the day trying to search by night? We, those night-born and night-chosen, would search. And we would find the missing pup.
Breathless, I waited for a response from the others. The voice that arose was rich and mellow, and I recognized it as the voice of Thunder, the leader of the werewolves who'd allied together to form the loose pack, "Yes, Shadow," he sang my name among wolves, "This night, we will not hunt prey, but hunt for this child. Come to the Gathering Place, for you shall lead us."
Even as I fell to all fours to run, I sang back, "Honor is bestowed on me, and I thank you for the lead of this hunt. I will return your position after this night, or however long it takes us to find the child. I come now. Make sure everyone has sated the bloodlust: I will trust no unblooded wolf with this."
"It will be as you say," he responded, and then was silent, leaving me to run for the Gathering Place, my gait eating up the miles. I had endurance and speed to spare for several non-wolves, and so it took me minutes to cover a distance that took most hours to travel. Our Gathering Place was secluded, even more so than most places on this island; a sanctuary for us in either form.
As I trotted under the arch of boulders that formed the entrance to the valley nestled between four guardian mountains, I looked over the assembled pack with astonishment; either Thunder had forced several non-pack werewolves to help us, or the 'scheduled' hunt had attracted non-pack wolves who wanted to stick around and help. Our numbers were close to two score, most like me; victims of circumstance, loners to the 'normal' world who joined the pack, if it could be called such, for companionship. Others had been werewolves for so long they couldn't remember any other life, and for them, the pack was a triumph, a defiant stance against those who would kill us. Still others only hung around because they knew that more werewolves meant an easier kill, and potentially more food for them, and more opportunities. I acknowledged all reasons as valid, and condemned no one, so long as they didn't betray us.
In the center of the valley was an upright boulder, not so big that one couldn't scramble up onto its flat top, but high enough that doing so made the speaker visible to all. Around it the pack had gathered, some with eyes turned upwards to the werewolf standing there, others towards me. I slowed, standing back on two legs as I walked forward, and a lane opened up for me, leading straight to the boulder and the werewolf atop it. Even as I leapt up next to him, I couldn't help but admire him.
No one knew what his true name was, but that was not unusual in this pack. Just as I was known as Shadow, so had everyone taken another name for themselves. Thunder was absolutely massive, even by our standards. A full two hands taller than I, he towered over both werewolves and normal species, his broad, strong shoulders causing even the toughest male among us—say nothing for the normal males!—to pause and reconsider challenging him. He was an amazing fighter, never having lost a battle since before he became a werewolf, one of the reasons we chose to have him as a leader. The other was the fact that he was wise, always making sure that we all were protected, but not at the risk of the pack's exposure. His russet fur lightened to silver guard hairs, probably a pattern he had been 'born' with, not one that he aged into. A few silvery scars were visible under his fur, the tales of what had caused them untold. It struck me as ironic that he was in the same pose as Roc had been several hours ago, though neither male knew it. He greeted me with a nod, and spoke in the language of wolves and werewolves, a language I doubted any normal person would know or be able to learn, "All those willing to help have assembled now, Shadow. I turn my leadership over to you. Command us and me as you will." It was a mere formality, but a necessary one; with out, no one would listen to my orders.
I nodded in return and turned to look over the two score werewolves, all of whom regarded me with a mixture of hope and wariness. I took a deep breath and began, "Packmates, you heard what I said but minutes ago; the Breton child Hethan is lost, and the searchers failed to pick up his tracks. It now falls to us. We must find him, if only to return him to his kin. Through this deed, I pray that part of my darkness be redeemed; you know of what I speak, and many of you agree. This is what we must do..." I spoke in a calm, matter of fact tone, confirming what must have occurred to them before moving onto business, "Alone or in partners, we shall quarter up the island, searching for him or at the very least, his scent. Should you come across his trail, howl the Chase signal twice, and we will join you to follow it. Should you come across the child, defend him with your life, calling the Prey Found call all the while. Again, we will join you, and help you to protect and bring the child safely home."
I looked over the gathered werewolves, and began to assign sectors. To the fastest when the places furthest away, and I cautioned, "No matter how tempting, do not search the paths you take; go straight to the location I assigned, and search there. Trust that someone coming after you will search those places, but no one else can get to where you are going before morning." To the slyest when the places closest to the fort and colony, and again I warned, "Don't be seen. If need be, shrink in your search, but do not be seen by the normal people. You are no use to the pack dead." And to the strongest when the places infested with smugglers and berserkers. "Fight if you must, but know that there is no dishonor in fleeing combat this time. Your first duty is to search, not to kill smugglers."
After they had departed from our group, I turned to the vast majority of werewolves still gathered, and began to quarter up the island, impartial except towards places where certain skills—a particularly mountainous section, a vast plain that needed endurance to cross—were needed. One by one, they turned and trotted out of the Gathering Place as well, my last words ringing in their ears,
"Search until morning in your wolf forms, then continue the search in your normal ones if you are able to. Keep quartering and re-quartering your area. When in doubt: go father. I would rather that a section be searched twice than not at all. Don't look in the burrows yet; we'll leave that to the humans when they return. And trust me, they will return. When they do, use all your wit and skill to avoid being spotted in either form; I don't doubt that they'll take time away from their search to kill a werewolf. If you come across the child's trail while they are in your sector, do your best to alert them to it without putting yourself or the pack in danger."
Finally, there was only me, Thunder, and a small, loner werewolf whose territory bordered my house. We were on friendly terms...at least, as friendly as werewolves with no intention of mating ever got. I turned to him now and said, "You're one of our best trackers, Ranger. Try and pick up the child's trail; follow the mother's back to her cabin, where his scent will—with luck—be stronger. I don't have much hope, but it's worth a try." Ranger bowed to me, then turned on his tail and galloped between the boulders, the white tuft of fur on the end of his tail waving like a banner.
I grinned after him, then looked over to Thunder, "You search around this area. I don't think he would have gotten this far, or this deep into werewolf territory, but you know how children can be."
He nodded, "And you, Shadow? Where will you search?"
I took a deep breath, steeling my nerves, then grinned, exposing my fangs, "I'm going to pay a visit to the ten rouge werewolves. They will tell me if they've seen the Breton child."
Thunder grinned as well at my feral tone, and nodded, clearly approving. We jumped off the boulder as if possessing one set of legs, and as he turned to scout around this area, I bounded out of the valley, turning to begin the long run towards the closest werewolf, praying to Hircine that this venture would not be in vain.
A/N: Much thanks to Mathek, who reviewed my first chapter. If you like this, review and tell me! With luck, I should be updating every week or thereabouts, depending on my schedual.