Here's the little teaser – sorry it took so long. My computer is alive again, though! iTunes is still down for the count. Not important, but depressing nonetheless. What you really want to know is this – I had a question about Slavka, and I am glad that you caught that! I kind of, sort of, may have dismissed her presence in the pack in an earlier chapter by saying that she went crazy and left (.A.K.A. Slavka got old and went off on her own to die.)

Sorry about that.

This may have been premature, but she's been through a lot and quite frankly she just needed to go away. Alright? Anywho, I will address her departure again to further clarify for those of you who were a bit confused by this.

Happy Hunting!

The Kerl~

Chapter 4

"It's a beast,

He's got fangs – razor sharp ones;

Massive paws, killer claws for the feast.

Hear him roar, see him foam,

But we're not coming home 'til he's dead,

Good and dead!

Kill the beast!"

– The Mob Song, Beauty and The Beast

I lifted my head to the moon and cursed its very existence. How in the name of all that is Varg were we to track a ghost when this thrice accursed night-sun was proclaiming our position for all to see? Surely there must be at least one willing cloud in the sky who would keep our cover. Currently I was sitting alone in the largest shadow I could find, awaiting word from the pack. Three months had passed and yet still no sign of the fiend. The Balkar had reformed, adopting the old name once more.

After all, "Night Hunter" seemed a fitting title for one hunting Wolfbane.

We were no longer the fighters who had lived tooth and claw for Tratto, the poor devil. Nor were we the same pathetic fools we had been of late, drunk on Morgra's quest for dominion over the Lera. Having suffered heavy losses in the battles of the past year, our numbers were far fewer than when the crazed she-wolf managed to ascend to the top of our ranks. Some had decided to domesticate themselves, as we liked to call it, and set about claiming the then unclaimed territory to begin packs of their own. To start families and protect the boundaries and other such nonsense. Of the six Balkar packs Morgra had taken control of, eight of us remained, finally committed to a true cause for the first time in our lives.

The Balkar were known throughout the mountains and forests alike as ruthless males, "The Fighting Dragga, First Among the Putnar." In the beginning this had not been the case. True, we had been granted entrance into the pack because of our thick hides and sharp teeth. We had each joined for our own individual reasons, though. Some were Kerl, seeking companionship; others were seeking revenge. Some simply found they had no other place in this world. Whatever our reasons for joining the Balkar, the black wolf was a threat to us all. We knew more than anyone just how awesome Wolfbane's wrath could be when provoked.

As a cub you are taught to send praise to Fenris and Tor. Your nurse tells you the stories of Sita when you are old enough to understand what her sacrifice meant to the Varg. As an adult it is your choice whether you remain devout in your prayers or shrug off the stories as merely that. Personally, faith never set well with me. When times were difficult I would find myself looking to sky, silently pleading with Fenris for guidance. When times were good I attributed my fortune to all that the well-honed body of a Putnar could bring me. Why believe in something you could not sink your teeth into? Then again, where was the harm in asking for help now and again?

Wolfbane was always a different matter, though. While Fenris and Tor had always seemed as if they could exist, our demon god had never held any real credibility in my life. Wolfbane was only a story invented to scare cubs into obeying their parents and den mothers. He was not a real character.

Until Morgra.

Menduvlad had been of the opinion that this…this thing had been a creature of our late leader's creation. When news of "Our Lord's" return became common knowledge, we looked to Morgra for an explanation. The Dark One would save us, lead us to victory against the white wolf. She had spun a web of falsehoods so tangled we had no choice but to lose ourselves in them.

It was safer that way, anyhow.

As when we were children, The Evil One lurked about in the darkness. We could sense him easily enough, but he remained silent as a shadow. Some spoke of Wolfbane's Winter – a Sikla's notion if I ever heard one. How in the name of all that is right with this world could one change the elements?

That was when he first came to the pack. Later, after we began to question his presence and his motives, odd…occurrences, I suppose one would say, began to happen. Whenever one of our number spoke ill of our overlord, we were immediately set upon by some severe form of punishment.

Wolves are simply not capable of perfect vision one moment, only to find themselves possessing eyes whiter than a cloud the next instant. It is unheard of.

It is not normal.

At Harja we finally came face-to-face with our tormentor. He who used us as mere playthings, as a cub would a squirrel. This wolf we had feared so was a figment of our fear and our imagination. We had allowed this sadistic demon such power over our emotions, he actually believed himself to be the Evil One.

No more. Now we only wished for peace. Harja cleared our minds, allowed us to see what Morgra had done to us. We wanted fulfill our missive and protect the Varg from themselves. No one wolf should possess such power over others. The Greater Pack had been disbanded because of this. While so much of what we had believed in had been a lie, we knew one thing: this black wolf did have power, and he was not afraid to use it to his advantage.

For this reason alone the remaining Balkar had assembled to find and destroy the wolf called Fell.

"Brak." I turned at my name, shaken from my musings. I stepped from the shadows into the moonlight as another approached cautiously. Hopefully he brought the news I had been so desperately awaiting.

"Yes, Vantr? What is it?" While I had been elected acting Dragga of our pack, I kept Vantr close to my side. He would be the first to challenge my authority and fight me for leadership.

"Brak, we found her." He shook his head solemnly at my suddenly interested expression. "I wouldn't get your hopes up. We haven't been able to understand a word she has said since we caught up with her." He shook his head again, as if he were trying to rid his mouth of a foul taste.

"Wait – you say that you found her? The others are unaware of your presence?" This could turn out even better than expected.

"Yes," he sighed. "She was just wandering the forest on her own. It took us some time to track her. Her trail was all over the place, as if she had no destination. Which is why you should speak with her soon. Brak, she left the pack…" he trailed off suggestively. Oh, the old warrior finally feels her time has come, has she? How interesting.

"Alright then, take me to her." We padded through the trees, sticking to the nearly non-existent shadows in an attempt to remain invisible in the darkness. We were Night Hunters – it's what we did best.

A few minutes' travel brought us to the rest of the pack. They were standing in a circle, guarding a huddled figure in the center. Their efforts were needless, however, for their charge was in no condition to escape her captors. She had the appearance of an emaciated deer, so sharp were her angles. A sickly yellow color had replaced her once radiant white pelt. How she had survived so long on her own was beyond me, but I did remind myself to send a quick prayer of thanks to someone later for our good fortune at finding her alive.

"Don't take them…please don't take them from me," I heard her mumble. Vantr was right. She had lost her mind. I passed into the circle of wolves and stopped only when my muzzle was mere inches from her scarred one.

"Tell me, Slavka dearest, did you leave your pack in good health?"