Hunt or be hunted. Fate will have it's dues.

First code of the Council's Hunters; the Trial of the Dark.

Despite the hundreds of infinitely disastrous outcomes that could have taken the course of reality, as they awaited the return of the cable car, nothing transpired. Time and time again, aware of the horrors that awaited them, the trio of friends that had been unceremoniously deposited outside the relay station had leapt at the shadows, fearing the worst. Whether it it would be Josh, dragging himself through the pristine snow, calling their names as he pawed at the gaping wounds and gashes across his side a yellow eyed wolf snarling and unable to discern hunter from prey amidst it's insatiable hunger, or worse, a hundred and forty or so pounds of skeletal bone and sinew, screaming for their demise with outstretched claws held out for a final embrace before death would take it's course; all of these seemed to appear amid the spectral shadows, and none would materialise, fearful of stepping into the moonlight. Content to prowl and watch, for now at least.

In fact, Sam could have nearly celebrated when the lonely carriage redocked with the station they had decided to call their temporary residence, even though, for all intents and purposes, he had effectively kidnapped them, and to her horror, Sam wondered if the Stockholm syndrome was already setting in. She decided against it; for all intents and purposes, it would have been no different if the US government had forced them to return to the scene to aid investigators, had they in fact wanted an investigation. In that event, it would have been labeled cooperation, as opposed to abduction.

At least, that was what she hoped, though it was not reciprocated by everyone. The decision to rid them of their phones was not a very popular one, especially with Chris. But like always, Chris' temper was attached to a long fuse, with little explosive force, and his opposition to the plan was quickly overcome on Viriditus' grudging promise to reimburse him at a later date, along with the ever present threat posed by an armed soldier.

After another brief conversation with an increasingly irritated Mallus, who had in fact relocated, without their knowledge, to a new observation post at the very foot of the station, for the sole purpose of retaining the element of surprise should an unwanted intruder burst into the area; an advantage that was being sorely tested each time Viriditus took the time to point out with a tap on the head, they took the road toward the peak. Or at least, they had begun to follow the path abruptly disappeared.

'Did an avalanche occur here?' Mike asked, clearly in awe at the clean destruction, 'I mean, the bridge used to be here.'

'Depends,' the Guardsman replied without turning around, 'you including the 'natural disaster' in the definition?'

'You mean you did this?' Chris gave it another glance. Truth be told, it was not the most substantial snowslide one might have seen on the mountains, for Mount Washington was not of significant height to attain a perennial snowfall, and the snow had not accumulated to such a vast quantity that it had made significant headway down the mountain, to the small hamlets below. But where it had succeeded was in achieving the absolute burial of the small covered bridge that had once provided access across a shallow ravine; the same bridge where Mike had spent the more than a few minutes crouched in the rafters three months ago, awaiting a potential victim, unaware of the horrors that would follow.

'We tried to bring the Omens into the area,' Viriditus explained, gesturing vaguely at the carnage, 'if you've seen rotary winged aircraft in action, well, the air displacement beneath the transport can be a bit, violent, at times.'

'So then how can we get around it?' Sam asked, falling to a knee as she surveyed the site below them. The snow bank off to the left, where the avalanche had come from, was far too great in gradient to scale, and she had little doubt that attempting to wade across the uncompacted snow would make for a logistical nightmare in it's own right.

Perhaps not for her, she admitted, plus Mike and Matt were of fit condition, but Jessica and Ashley would struggle over the top.

Viriditus seemed in fair agreement, though once again, his reasoning of practicality differed severely from Sam's.

'We can circumvent it if we follow the gorge,' he pointed out, 'the slide practically filled the damn place up, and at least we won't be out in the open.'

'Won't get warmer amongst those trees,' Mike noted.

'I wasn't talking about the elements. Among the trees at least, we'll have some cover.'

'You expecting to get shot up here?' Chris snorted, failing entirely to lighten the mood. Somehow, a serial killer with a rifle would have been preferable to something that would flay the unfortunate victim alive, with it's own hands as its instrument of choice.

'Just keep quiet,' he instructed them, taking the lead once more, 'predators tend to follow game trails on a parallel axis. And this road might as well be the largest on this mountain. Expect contact.'

'Are we being a little pessimistic then?'

'You expect the worse; you'll never be disappointed with Fate.'

They worked their way down into the gully without incident, but the foliage presented it's own problem.

After a night on the mountain, discretion seemed the prefered course by all those present, but simple caution could not teach one every aspect of concealment. Despite his admonishments with each snapped twig they left in their wake, Viriditus did not seem to be able to stem the tidal wave of sound that continued to ripple off the small band of survivors. They were small flaws for the most part; a foot placed on a drier piece of snow, a careless head knocking against a snow laden twig suspended in the air, or more commonly, a piece of clothing; usually the arms, catching upon an inconvenient network of naked branches, but the decision of calamity to arrive at one's doorstep rarely falls upon a single, momentous point of existence: it is too often the small and trivial affairs that shape the future to come.

And they were making many small errors.

Perhaps that was why it should have been no surprise when they heard the screech.

'Please tell me you heard that,' Ashley shuddered, 'I'm not going crazy right?'

'Oh, shit,' Mike stammered raising the rifle to bear, 'this isn't good.'

'Shut up. All of you, right now. Something's out there.'

'No shit,' Matt whispered, 'this ain't going to end well-'

He was cut off by the roar. Foliage was crushed underfoot, something was breathing heavy and hard as it approached, and the roar drew nearer.

It was no Wendigo.

'Bear!' Sam cried out, giving them all sufficient warning to the threat as it lumbered into the clearing, but as to what they were supposed to do with that warning, no one could say for sure.

The Grizzly was wounded, badly, on that account. It's flanks were strafed by blood, and large rents had been torn across it's hide. It's claws were reddened as well, though some appeared to have been broken by some immense force. But it's blood still ran hot, and seeing seven new beings challenging it's presence upon the mountain, it resorted to desperation.

Mike was the first to see what was about to transpire.

'Move!' he screamed at the top of his lungs, 'move!'

By chance, Chris, who was still mesmerised by the brutal demonstration of over two hundred kilograms of muscle and fur to consider his own personal safety, happened to stand in Mike's path. A firm grasp upon his shoulder dislodged him from the apparent bout of hypnosis, and he promptly fell in line with Mike, as they dragged themselves for the treeline. Matt did his best to drag Ashley aside, but the poor girl was simply rooted to the spot, and the two of them, off balance by the entire affair, fell to the ground in a heap, only inches away from the bear's predicted path. A correction that could be made easily by the berserk animal.

Sam's success with Jessica was even less so. Not possessed by the same hormonal mantle that drove boys to commit to the dangerous and dramatic, she had tried to simply lead Jessica out of the way by her arm. But that had presumed Jessica would move upon her own volition.

She, like any normal person faced with death staring into her eyes, did not, as she simply froze, forcing Sam to double back, seizing her by the shoulders, before the bear was onto them. How pathetic, she thought to herself, that they'd return expecting a nightmare, only to be mauled to death by a bear.

And then the air was alive with curses.

'Solveris!' Viriditus was screaming. 'Sam, get her out of the way!'

Despite herself, Sam tore her eyes back to the murderous mass of fur, only for her jaw to drop.

The Guardsman had not moved out of the monster's path. If anything, he had run right into the marauding bear as its forelegs had departed the ground, with naught but a short, unreflective blade in his right hand. While it was certainly no butter knife, it was hardly a sword, much less a pike: if it were placed against his elbow, it would not even extend past the wrist.

She had no idea what the idiot was thinking. If he had planned to tackle it to the ground, he had miscalculated to terrific proportions, since the bear had simply knocked him to the ground in one fell swoop, and was now attempting to rake its claws across the pinned Guardsman's chest. And yet, he wasn't dead. It was unbelievable, as she watched the Black Cloak, roaring at an equal volume to his feral opponent, ram the blade hard through the bear's underarm.

In the same moment, the bear's claws tore a long gash across the black plate. Then, battling through the pain it felt amidst it's berserk rage, the bear opted to abandon fineness, as it simply leapt down upon him, aiming to crush the pinned Guardsman like the upturned beetle he was.

One of its limbs landed upon his left arm, and simply crushed it on the spot. Sam tore her eyes off the spectacle as the metal buckled, somehow praying that it was not to be.

It's second forepaw landed upon his chest, and began to tear for his throat.

Then, a new warrior joined the bout.

The first inkling Mike received of the third combatant was when something literally threw him against a tree, as it thundered by. He had not even heard it before it had carelessly fired him like a ball bearing against the obstructive trunk, but by God it was fast!

When his eyes returned to the scene, everything had changed.

It was a wolf; a grey one at that, and for a moment, he was tempted to believe it was the one that had spared him from death within the Sanitorium at the cost of it's own life. But this one was far larger than any wolf he had ever witnessed in the past, nearly equalling the bear itself in size.

And in strength, as it rammed the titanic beast squarely in the side, propelling it off the crippled Guardsman in the blink of an eye. Then it was onto the Grizzly, it's talons ripping the thick fur apart, and exposing the flesh and tendon beneath, as it's jaws separated at the sight of fresh meat.

But it did not feed; the grey snout simply dove down, into the bear's face, and depressed the muscular trigger on the springtrap that controlled its jaws.

As the toppled bear's underside was exposed to Mike, who had dove to the left with Chris in hand, he was spared the full sight of what occurred upon the bear's face, but judging from Jessica's shriek and Sam's awful wretch, it must have been suitably horrific.

It's movements growing weaker with every second blood emptied from its veins, the blind, savaged Grizzly was all but dead when the wolf split it's gut with a single sweep across it's matted belly.

Then it turned it's eyes upon him. Calculating. Weighing the risk posed by a lanky twig against it's hunger.

Hunger won.

'Solveris! Don't!'

Chris was certain he was about to die when the wolf unexpectedly dropped out of the air. It had already begun it's fatal leap forward when the voice stopped it, and all tension within those powerful hind legs departed, forcing an untimely end to the coup de grace. Off balance by the sudden change in instinct, the wolf tumbled forward slightly, but to it's credit, recovered with almost immediate, feral grace, only allowing the foremost sections of it's paws to hit the snow before stalking away again, to the mayhem before them all.

It took all the nerve of those present to stop themselves from pulling the trigger as they took aim upon the overgrown lupine. Mike and Chris, being under the most severe threat, had in fact pulled the trigger themselves, though it seemed fate had delivered them from what would have undoubtedly proven a disaster, likely involving some missing limbs. Both had simply provided a dull 'clack' of metal, and little else. The wolf had heard the threat, and for a moment raised it's head, but then, content of its security in the ineptitude of its hunters, it simply turned away, probing at the fallen Guardsman upon the ground.

Of course, Sam was the first to abandon the security of distance. Careful to holster the gun she disdained, her advance was greeted by a warning growl from the deep belly of the wolf.

'Easy, Solveris,' Viriditus cautioned the mighty hound, before the rest of his sentence was lost in a garbled ennunciation of pain, as he doubled forward, clasping the shattered arm at his side.

'Viriditus,' Sam whispered, careful not to provoke the animal, 'your arm-'

'Is fixable,' he grunted, 'Great Father, that was stupid.'

He seemed to be fumbling for something on the wolf's side, and it was then that Sam realised a piece of fabric had been knotted to the wolf's left foreleg. It was almost like an armband, with consideration for the fact that the muscled trunk was a great deal larger than most men, and a compartment seemed to have been strapped or adhered upon the said apparatus. As he worked, the wolf seemed to emit a low rumble, shifting it's head to the Guardsman, but other than that, it appeared entirely at ease, as Viriditus finally produced a small silver vial from the bag's contents. His movements were becoming more erratic by the second, and Sam could only guess that the shock from the tremendous blow was starting to catch up.

'You need a hand?'

'Stupid cap,' the Guardsman was muttering under his breath. He did not hear Sam's inquiry until the wolf emitted a second warning, and sank lower into the snow, as if preparing itself to bound forward yet again. Sam promptly halted a second time.

'Can you get the bloody cap off? Solveris, don't. Friend.'

The wolf appeared to relax at his words, and Sam cautiously made her way forward once more. Each crackle beneath her feet sent a shudder down her spine, fearing it may suddenly abandon all restraint, and tear her to pieces before a word could leave Viriditus' mouth. But nothing transpired; no flurry of limbs, no ear splitting crack of bone, nor the indescribable pain that would undoubtedly travel up the spinal cord in the heat of a second to destroy the brain with a sensory overload.

Not even when she stooped down to retrieve the small syrette from the ground at the wolf's paws, although, Sam would have been lying if she had declared herself free of doubt in the moment. Not when the wolf in question was staring at her through those orange eyes, it's jaw splitting ever so slightly to reveal the row upon row of incisors that were held concealed behind that thin fold of flesh as she lowered her head to the same level. Somehow, despite her affection for animals, Sam was relieved that Mike had not shied away from the entire affair, and had also abandoned his position at the edge of the clearing, drawing a bead upon the creature as he advanced ever so slowly to her side.

Even if it would probably kill them both, she was glad he would cover her when the worst came to bear, as she snatched the vial up, and ran it along her fingertips. Like nearly everything upon Viriditus' person, it was of a non reflective tint of the night, though in truth it was a tremendously dark shade of grey, as opposed to the perpetual darkness that clothed the rest of the Guardsman. She gingerly took hold of the most pointed end of the instrument, and quickly turned it twice, revealing a rather thick surgical needle.

'Give it here,' Viriditus sighed, extending a hand.

'You sure?' Sam asked, 'I mean I could do it-'

'That's nice of you Sammy,' he snapped impatiently, but not in an unkindly manner, 'but I'd rather just get the damn thing over with.'

She complied, and deposited the syringe into the open gauntlet laid out before her. With a practiced motion, the Black Cloak simply seized the cylinder, breathed once, and brought it down on his shattered arm, hard. He twitched, and twisted over himself several times, trying to stifle what must have been agony, but surprisingly, nothing was emitted from that blackened helmet. No exclamations, and most of all, no curses from the rather vulgar alien they had come to know.

When his distorted voice did return, it did so in the strangest of manners; a gasp for air mid sentence, followed by another at it's full length, and if Sam were to hazard a guess, she would have decided that the helmet must have had some sealed quality to it, allowing the user to mute the audio whenever he chose. It took quite a while for Viriditus to ease himself back into the normal rhythm of respiration, and when he finally spoke, there was a haggard quality to the already deep and nearly gravelly audio.

'Damn quad,' he seemed to be mumbling.

'You ok?'

'I'll lose a limb,' Viriditus said, nearly tired in his tone, 'but I'll live.'

She extended a hand to him, but he batted it away, before he rose up, resetting the shattered limb into the usual right angle at the elbow with his functional hand as he went. Instinctively, Sam leant forward to take a closer look at the small medical kit adhered to the wolf's leg, seeking something that might have been used as a sling.

It nearly ended her own life, as the wolf sprang back, nearly taking her hand when it reached out for the matted bag, and she reflexively withdrew with all haste, shouting out that she was fine before Mike could depress the trigger.

'What the hell was that for?'

'Don't you need a sling?' She asked, still aware of the titanic wolf ahead of her. Although it had lowered its head ever so slightly in preparation to pounce, as the hind legs cocked into position like a spring, she was fully aware that the creature nearly stood as high as she. Not that it wouldn't have mattered anyway; she had forgotten the fact she was armed, and was treating the tremendous beast as anyone should; with respect, but most of all, caution.

'What the hell's a sling?'

Sam was starting to explain when she saw it. The Black Cloak's arm was simply locked in place as he strode towards her, unflinching with every sway the body it was attached to took, encased within the black carapace.

Useless as it was in protecting him in the first place, the armored suit seemed to have its purposes.

'Nothing,' she ended meekly.

'Well, then...splendid. Shall we move on?'

The overgrown wolf led the way, with a crippled Viriditus in tow, before the bulk of the small column promptly flattened whatever had been left in the pair's wake. Perhaps it would have made more sense for Mike or Chris to lead the party, considering the fact that their guardian no longer had his two hands to make use of, but then there would have been the problem with Solveris. Or at least, that was what they hoped his name was. The off chance it might have been some derogatory term of affection in the alien tongue that had become part of the common friendship between the odd pair was small, but ever present. And if such was the case, there were few doubts that the lupine would not take well to a stranger's attempt to seize the reigns, let alone his dignity.

What's more was that Viriditus never needed to call him again. Occasionally, the wolf would stray from sight: an invitation for all manner of unpleasantries on a mountain patrolled by cannibalistic demons, but he would always return a moment later, a dozen or more meters to the left or right, as he swept the trail.

'Maybe it's rude to ask,' Chris started quietly, but within earshot of the cloaked figure at the head of the column, 'but what exactly...is that?'

Viriditus did not respond.

'I mean the wolf.'

'Hey, man?' Mike called, his brow furrowing as he pushed up to the front, 'You okay?'

His hand went up to the Black Cloak's shoulder, but then he instinctively snatched it back, scanning the foremost segments of his fingers.

They were wet; coated by some ichorous, dark substance.

'Holy shit,' he cried, 'are you bleeding?'

He moved past the Guardsman, and nearly dropped the rifle he had been entrusted with. The long scars in the carapace were now indistinguishable from the rest of the plate, for they seemed to have filled themselves with that viscous fluid, which continued to run down them like the canals of Venice, following indistinguishable patterns and streaks as they inched earthwards.

'Just get me to the lodge,' Viriditus shuddered, 'I've lived through worse.'

'Chris!' Mike shouted, 'Matt, can you give me a hand-'

'I didn't ask you to shout down the blasted forest! In fact, just shut up, and we'll make it.'

It was an uncomfortable walk in silence as Mike fell back in with the rest of the column. It seemed anathema to simply leave the bleeding man, or alien, he reminded himself, to make the journey alone, but he did not yet have the nerve to defy the Guardsman's authority.

Had the situation proven different; had it been one of his friends that was wounded, he would have been able to judge what could be tackled alone; when to press his aid, and when to allow them to retain their dignity alongside their lives.

But Viriditus was a different matter. He did not even know how much it would take to the kill the Guardsman, much less judge his value of honor.

'What the hell was that?'

Ashley's warning caught them all off guard, and the collective gaze immediately shifted to the right. The pines did not help isolate the source of the movement, for amidst the illumination of the in moonlight, and upon a small rise in the trail as they were, one could peer a remarkable distance through the phalanx of tree trunks, providing no single axis upon which to track their eyes across the woods, in search of whatever else the darkness might hold.

'Where is it?' mouthed Matt, barely audible in his inquiry, 'Can you point it out?'

'No, just stay,' Mike interceded, 'stay fucking still.'

His instruction did not seem to carry to the other two boys, and neither did it influence his own hands, as they tried to level the rifles as best they could upon the most shadowed point in the foliage their eyes could find, where the mind might best construct a nightmare to haunt them, when a low whistle carried along the wind.

'Venator? Quid sanguinum?'

A rustle of movement ahead snapped their gazes away from the imminent danger, to find the crippled titan confronted by two of his kin, that had seemingly materialized out of the ground. The moment did not last long, and abruptly, one of the pair detached himself from the group, and made his way over to the small band Viriditus had assembled for the ascent. Instinctively, Mike and Matt; the closest to the oncoming soldier, shuffled back, only to find the movement had been echoed by the rest of their group, leaving them far closer to the stranger than most would have liked.

'You're the ones who survived this place before, aren't you?'

'Um,' Mike stuttered, considering the cut down rifle held to his chest, 'yes.'

'Then follow us. It's not much further. You're in friendly lines now.'

Somehow, friendly did not quite seem to describe the grim mountain of steel, as he trundled off once more to lift the badly damaged Guardsman ahead back onto his feet.

'I guess we're going with them, then,' said Chris to no one in particular.

'Is it just me,' Jessica babbled, 'but does anyone else feel like we're walking into a death trap again?'

'If they wanted to, they could have killed us at the entrance.'

'That's a nice thought, Chris.'

'You coming, Ashley?'

'I just can't shake this niggling feeling,' she muttered, clasping her hands together as she did so, although whether it was for cold, or simple unease, no one could tell. 'It really feels like someone's watching us.'

'Probably got a sniper or someone,' Chris said, in a mood that was far too jovial for the situation at hand, 'you know, to pop us if we run.'

'Really helpful, Chris,' Mike snorted in a futile attempt to suppress his own unease, 'come on. I don't know about these guys, but I'll take 'em over a night in the open.'

'You coming Sam?'

'Huh?' Sam looked over her shoulder, into clearly distressed eyes. Evidently, Ashley was no more eager to remain behind than Mike, but she recoiled at the empty pupils that greeted her.

'Hell, Sam. You look like you...saw a ghost.' There was no trace of humor in her statement, but at her words, a degree of colour returned to Sam's drained face.

'No,' she assured her, 'nothing. I thought I did but-'

'But?'

'Nothing. It was just a moose.'

Ashley peered into the darkness one final time, trying to ascertain what could have been perceived as a pair of antlers within the catastrophe of plant life sinking towards the ground under the weight of the snow it carried, but she called off the search within moments of commencing it. One never knew what they would find in the night, and perhaps Ashley had come to the vain hope of praying that whatever she could not see would simply return the favor, in the policy of mutual ignorance one often resorted to in a nightmare.

Once her disturbed friend had turned away though, Sam gave the night one final scan. But try as she might, she could not relocate those empty, pale eyes that had held her gaze only moments ago.