Shadow knew he wouldn't get far. He felt keenly the loss of blood and the weakness that came as a direct result. Every step was painful and difficult, and he struggled to maintain his course. His legs wanted to simply fold up under him, but he refused to let them.

He had home field advantage though. Aside from which, this was exactly the sort of scenario he'd been thinking about during the morning. He leaped fallen logs and plunged through thickets, and the Evening Wolf came crashing after him, blinded by rage. It had the power to uproot whole trees, but that took more time than jumping or going around. Any thinking creature knows to go around a boulder instead of over it if they want to save energy and get to their destination faster. That was the weakness of the Evening Wolf. Consumed by want, by desire, by hate and fury and hunger and lust, the beast had barely any room for thought. It was a wanton murderer, a killer for the pleasure of killing. There was not an animal in nature who could claim to be anything like it.

It was the creature's rage-induced inefficiency which Shadow was counting on to stay ahead of it. He couldn't outrun it, not if he were to run a straight line from point A to point B. He couldn't lose it, its nose was at least as powerful as his own. It could follow his trail almost anywhere.

But he needed more distance. Somehow, he had to slow the creature down. Suddenly, he remembered the brook where Chance had originally encountered the Evening Wolf. The brook. Water covered scent, any dog who'd chased animals to the edge of a stream knew that. And unless the animal crossed directly to the other side, it was nearly impossible to figure out where it went.

Shadow put on as much speed as he could, making a beeline for the brook, the Evening Wolf hot on his heels, now and then growling as if to let him know it was still there, still angry, and still after him. Shadow had more than one reason to hurry. He didn't have much time left. The wound across his belly was severe and it wouldn't be long before not even adrenaline could keep him running.

He reached the brook and leaped into it, splashing upstream towards his desired destination. He knew that he was done for, as was Chance. Sassy... he didn't know if she was even alive. But they lived near town. If he could get there, he knew that there were other dogs, dogs who would see the monster, recognize it for what it was, and attack it for the same reason that he had. To protect their own families.

If nothing else, they might at least slow it down, or distract it until... until what? He had no solution. He was out of ideas. Some instinct told him that the Wolf back at the house wasn't dead. He didn't know how he knew that, but he did. That meant that their best had not been enough to kill even one Evening Wolf. There was nothing for it now but to run, to keep running, until there was no more strength in him to do so. It was all he could do. It was all he had left.

Leaving the brook, Shadow charged uphill, towards the road. Behind him, he heard the Evening Wolf roar in fury. It had found the end of his trail. He knew it would find him again, by air scenting if it had to, but it would find him. Probably sooner than he expected it to.

Shadow's breath was coming in painful gasps, and each uphill leap was pure agony. The leaves beneath his paws seemed dead set on betraying his footing, sending him sliding back to the bottom of the hill where the Evening Wolf was lying in wait. A triumphant howl echoed through the woods, telling Shadow that his trail had been relocated, and that the Evening Wolf would soon be upon him.

At last, he struggled up onto the verge. For a moment, his legs seemed unable to lift him to a standing position and he floundered in the leaves helplessly. Then two things happened simultaneously. A black car screeched to a halt inches from him and he heard the Evening Wolf crashing about below and behind. Two men got out of the car.

"No, drive away," Shadow whined, even though he knew they couldn't understand, "Run away."

As they started towards him, Shadow dragged himself to his feet. They'd left him no choice. Shadow could not permit the Evening Wolf to harm anyone, not so long as there was breath in his body. As these people had foolishly chosen to stop here of all places in the world, Shadow must make his stand here. Taking a shaky breath, he turned, squared himself, lowered his head, and growled.

"Come and get me, Jim. Face me, if you dare."

The Evening Wolf halted, still screened by the trees. Shadow could hear its rasping breath, smell its vile stench. But he couldn't see it. He growled again, and heard an answering snarl. But still the Evening Wolf hung back. Then Shadow barked.

"If you want me, come and take me!"

Like a flash of lightning, the Wolf burst from the forest, blood red mouth agape, huge fangs flashing white in the brilliant light of the sun, forelegs extended beyond its mutant body with paws spread and claws reaching out to catch the dog in a deadly embrace.

Shadow lunged to meet his enemy. Had anyone who knew him been there, they wouldn't have recognized him. Every line of the great dog's body was fury, his bristling fur soaked in fresh and drying blood, the rage on his face seemed all but alien on him, and the look in his eyes could be considered nothing short of murderous. He was a different dog in that moment, a demon every bit as terrible as the Evening Wolf itself.

The two beasts met in the air, and the Evening Wolf was flung back. They rolled downhill, claws slashing, jaws snapping, each seeking to kill the other by the time they reached the bottom of the hill. At the last second, Shadow tore free, and lay bleeding halfway up the hill while the Wolf continued on down. At the bottom, the Evening Wolf regained its feet and leaped towards its helpless enemy.

It never made it.

A sound, as sharp and clear as the crack of a bullwhip, punched through the air. It echoed through the forest, and then died away into silence. The Wolf fell dead inches from Shadow's face, its mouth open in a hideously betrayed grin.

Weakly, Shadow raised his head and looked uphill. Two men were climbing down, warily eying the dead Evening Wolf. One was holding a smoking gun. Sniffing, Shadow smelled the smoke. Had he known anything about guns and bullets, he might have been surprised to catch the scent of silver. But he didn't, so the foreign smell meant little to him.

But he did know that these men had killed the Evening Wolf. They'd done it once. And that meant they could do it again. He got to his feet through sheer force of will and staggered up to meet them. He took the jacket sleeve of one man in his mouth gently but firmly and tugged at it, before letting go and sliding partway down the hill. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. When they didn't follow, he barked.

"Think that dog knows where the other one is?" the younger man asked, looking up at the older one.

"Maybe. I'll follow him on foot. You keep going to the Seaver house. I'll meet you there."

Shadow barked again, and then set off into the woods. He wanted to run all the way home. But he couldn't. Partially because he was too tired. But also because he'd lose the man if he did that. So he settled for a fast trot, and prayed he wasn't too late.

Chance had heard the gun shot. It was the sound which saved his life. The She-Wolf had just risen and was preparing to leap on the dog without warning. The gun shot made Chance jump and look around wildly. Seeing the She-Wolf, he whirled at once to face the creature, but was slow in getting to his feet. Blood dripped from his side, joining the pool which had already formed on the ground.

"Why won't you just die?" Chance growled, then flung himself upon the Evening Wolf with every bit of ferocity that was left in him.

He might not be able to save his own life, but maybe, just maybe, in sacrificing himself, he might give the others time to... get away... or somehow be saved. He didn't know how, but he'd spent most of his life in the dark, not really knowing why or how things happened, and that had never stopped him before.

It was about this time that Hope dared look out the window. Everything had been quiet, and she had heard the shot. Thinking maybe it was over, she couldn't help but look. What she saw made her scream. At once, her brothers rushed to her side and looked out. They couldn't recognize the giant malformed black wolf as their aunt, but they knew it sure as Hell wasn't Shadow that Chance was fighting with.

"What is it?!" Hope screamed.

"I don't know! I don't know!" Peter shouted back, unable to maintain a level head any longer.

"It's got Chance!" Jamie cried, as Hope wailed at the same time, "It killed Sassy!"

The Evening Wolf lifted the dog from the ground and threw him violently aside, then turned and advanced on the fallen canine. Chance got his front feet under him, but his back feet didn't seem to have the strength to hold him. He sat helpless, growling menacingly at the beast.

Then, out of the woods came a golden-red streak. Taking off from the ground, Shadow hurled himself at the back of the Evening Wolf's head, his jaws striking their mark at the base of the skull. Roaring in pain, the Evening Wolf reared back and reached for the dog with one of its clawed hands.

But Shadow released his hold and slid to the ground, where he lay completely still. A single shot rang out, and the Evening Wolf stumbled back, stepping on the fallen retriever as it did so, lost its balance and fell onto its side where its body began to spasm and shudder violently.

As the children watched in horror, the black wolf shrank down, folding in on itself until it began to take the familiar shape of a woman. And then the even more familiar shape of their aunt. Hope burst into tears and buried her head in her older brother's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably. Peter was too shocked to do anything except hold her and stare out the window. Yet, even now, he felt a pang of guilt for ever having doubted his dog.

He led his sister over to the door and opened it, then led the way down the stairs and out of the house.

The battlefield messy. There was blood everywhere, on everything. Broken glass was strewn about the torn ground. At the center of it all was a strange dark haired man with a gun, standing over what had been their Aunt Tracy. He was wearing the uniform for the local animal control officers.

"Wh-what... happened?" Peter asked shakily.

"Son, I hate to be the one to tell ya this, but your Aunt Tracy was a Werewolf."

"But... Werewolves... they're not... um... real. Are they?" Jamie wanted to know.

"They're every bit as real as you or I. Most people don't see 'em is all," the man replied kindly, "See, thing about the supernatural is, you only get to see it when you're ready. It doesn't play by the rules of man or even nature. Maybe not even God, but I don't claim to know a great deal about His rules."

"But... I... Aunt Tracy was... a Werewolf?" Peter stumbled over the words.

"Yep."

"How... did you know?"

"We don't see many Werewolves out this way," the man explained, "But a few nights ago we started seein' signs, gettin' calls about weird animal attacks. If you want to hunt the big bad wolf, bein' in animal control is where you ought to be. Your call fit the description of a family member gone Wolf. See, animals can sense things people can't. Your dogs, they knew, probably from the moment your Aunt Tracy arrived. Lord knows why it takes 'em time to act, but they always do eventually."

Remembering their pets for the first time, the children looked around. The two dogs had quietly dragged themselves over to the cat, who still hadn't moved. Before they could go to the animals, a car turned in to the driveway.

"We can help 'em, if they're alive," the man said, "I've done a lot of patchin' up in the field."

He turned and approached the three animals. Chance raised his head and growled, trying to get up enough strength to stand and face this potential new foe.

"He's just trying to help, Chance. Relax," Shadow whispered, "For goodness sake, let him."

Chance fell silent and dropped his head onto his paws. But he didn't take his eyes off the man, and curled his lip silently when the man picked up Sassy and carried her off into the house. He actively growled when the younger man hefted him into his arms and carried him into the house. But the man ignored him, and Chance was too exhausted to follow through on his threat anyway.

The older man, who introduced himself as John, examined and tended to the animals one by one.

"Those are some tough animals you've got there," John told the kids, "They're going to be fine."

"Loyal, too," the younger man, Sam, added, "The old dog was trying to lead one of the Werewolves away from the house. Soon as it was dead, he turned back to deal with the one here."

The children didn't speak. They were too much in shock about the whole ordeal.