Huffing and snorting. To another man's ears it might've been a pig, even a wild boar, but Roland, having spent days and weeks at a time in the wilderness, recognized those sounds and the thumping paws as a bear's. The beast moved at terrific speed, and Roland watched the trees race by, thick brambles flattened and barely impeding their horrible progress. He smelled the quarry before he heard or saw him, smelled the sweaty fear, heard the crashing footsteps, saw the whites of his eyes... and heard the blood-curdling scream as they attacked, sinking vicious claws and powerful teeth into flesh and blood.

"Unh!" Roland sat bolt upright, twisted into sweaty sheets, both hands on his brow. It took him a few delirious seconds to recognize it had been a dream, only a dream, and he was awake now. The bed upstairs in Armand's Tavern was broad and comfortable, but the heat was oppressive, and Armand swore he would install air conditioning (or a viable alternative) as soon as possible. The young knight's first step was clumsy, but practiced feet found their balance soon, and he padded across the small room to open the window.

VeeJay?s sleeping sprawl ? on top of the sheets rather than under them due to that sweltering heat ? hadn?t shifted much during Roland?s tossing and turning. When he jerked up, though, it finally drew her halfway to wakefulness. When he abandoned the bed, she turned her head to follow his motion with one half-opened yellow-green eye. Curls tumbled into her face, and she pushed them back before half-propping up on one elbow. ?Roland??

"...It was just a nightmare, Vidya," he breathed as the night whispered cool air into the room, the rustle of the branches as they stirred in the wind soothing to him now. "A strange nightmare," he added, shaking his head and looking back at her. He was almost naked, and the moonlight illuminated his slowly but steadily growing collection of scars.

?Mmm. Tell me?? Awake now, it was Vee?s turn to pad across the room, her over-sized t-shirt ghostlike in the moonlight. She came to a halt just behind him, fingers tracing lightly over one of the scars on his shoulder before she wrapped her arms around his waist. Her eyes shimmered faintly green for a moment as she peered over his shoulder at the scene outside. ?Moon?s coming full ? I always have strange dreams this time of month.?

"I was running with a bear..." It had not occurred to him yet, that he was the bear. "...and there was an attack..." He shook his head and clasped his hand over hers, tracing her knuckles. "...Well, with all of the real attacks lately, it is a small wonder that I am so skittish."

?A bear? Do you think that?s what?s been attacking those woodsmen?? Wrinkling her nose, she pressed her face against his shoulder blade for a moment. Her next offer was very quiet ? while she knew Roland himself accepted her were nature, she?d so far been very careful not to reveal it here in the Barony. ?I could scent it, if you think that might help.?

Roland sighed - maybe she could see the battle in his eyes. Vidya was very able, but could he stand to put her at risk? He shook his head, turning to cradle her in his arms. "Perhaps tomorrow night, if we do not have any luck today. I just... It could be dangerous." His lips twisted. "There is a reason we are staying in such a large group for a hunt - it would take more than a bear to kill three woodsmen like that."

A silent nod was her first response, leaning into his embrace for the comfort of it ? on this night there was no need for extra heat. ?If I?m fox, though ? it shouldn?t be as dangerous. An animal big enough to take out people usually doesn?t bother with smaller game.? She shrugged a little, and then looked up at him with her smile spreading wide. ?I don?t have to ask you to be careful, do I?? There was some seriousness beneath the tease; every time he went out on these missions a little piece of her was held suspended with fear until he returned.

He chuckled. "Malcolm will be riding out with us this time, and he has the, ah... Bee-Ay-Ar." B.A.R. "Anyway, it should not be too terrible of a problem, as long as we are vigilant and properly armed."

At that there was a golden bubble of laughter, one that shook her shoulders, and her grin spread wider. ?Well, that shouldn?t be a problem for you, anyway. You?re usually more alert than I am,? more of a compliment than it seemed, considering her augmented senses, ?and I think you have a small armory hidden in your coat. Maybe a medium-sized armory.? Glint of gold in her eyes to go with the little giggle that escaped.

"Are you implying something, Vidya?" he breathed to her, shocked, but not so shocked that he did not move closer. "...Perhaps something you would like to put to the test?" A young man through and through... Just about anything could put him in the mood.

Giggle turned into a gleeful chortle, and her eyes went innocently wide. Too innocently. ?Oh, no ? I wouldn?t imply anything. Pure as driven snow, that?s me.? She almost managed to say that with a straight face, too. Further laughter was stifled by pressing a kiss under his jaw, at the side of his throat, with her arms wrapping up around his neck. ?Well ? maybe snow in the city.?

Soon he was stepping forward and steering her back towards the bed, laughing with her. "You are too bad..."

Roland traveled not too close to his companions, Lupinius and Onyxia, far enough to take advantage of their varied senses and talents. The knight had left his poor loyal horse at Armand's Tavern, fearing its added scent and inevitable noises would tip off the man -- or beast -- they all hunted.

Though he carried three main weapons, he still traveled light. His rifle was a "jungle carbine," a short bolt-action weapon weighing about ten pounds, and he carried only twenty rounds for it. He wore a long trench knife near his left boot, and, as ever, the longsword he had long since learned to rely on. In his carefully trained mind, motivated now by a very narrow focus that had kept him alive many times before, these weapons were no different than his skills themselves. All were gifts from God, pressed into holy service to protect the innocent.

They were far from the road now, deep into the thick undeveloped forest that dominated the landscape of northwest Bretland (the large island the Barony had been founded on); Roland thought on turning back to Canaan or Xhastil to rest. The as yet unnamed moon hung large and full in the sky, casting a strange pinkish glow through some trick of the magnetosphere, according to the scholars at G.A.M.E. He was on the verge of signaling to his companions, when there was a whoosh and a flicker of light ahead, and he held up a hand for them to wait instead.

It was an unmistakeable sound, and an unbelievable stroke of luck. Someone had lit a fire. In a gentle basin on the slope of a wooded ridge, the knight counted... at least eight men, what he could discern from the hushed voices and the long shadows cast by the flames. Most were moving about, gathering more stones and firewood, preparing a meal, while a giant of a man with a scar-riddled face sat leaned against a tree, one eye brown, the other completely bad, just a milky pale blue. They wore furs and copper brooches, and carried a wide range of beat-up weaponry that seemed to date from the late Middle Ages into Earth's 20th century.

Roland lowered his hand and crept forward, very carefully, dividing his eyes between the ground and their quarry and feeling what he was stepping on each time before he put his weight down, such that he produced scarcely a rustle in the leaves. Once they were close, he raised a gauntleted hand again to his companions, and from the cover of a tree observed the band. Perhaps they were only travelers... heavily armed travelers, but still...

"Wha's the damages, loves?"

"Eh, silks an' things off that squealin' merchant... nah but a few bits a silver. Pav, ya got tha run'way guard, yeah?"

"Cut 'is belly from 'ip to 'ip," and the man and his companions shared a round of gruesome laughter. "Kept blubberin' and scramblin' for pieces a his-self!"

Roland frowned... He had heard enough. The punishments for bandits in the realm could be called draconian, certainly, but they were by no means vague. He nodded to the left, then to the right, for his companions to attack. He checked his rifle, brought it to his shoulder, and waited a few moments for Onyxia and Lupinius to close in... aimed at the bandit who seemed to have the largest and deadliest array of firearms, and put a bullet through his temple.

Those first moments of confusion for the bandits would prove crucial to the outnumbered hunting party, but in spite of it all, the large man sitting under the tree seemed to have vanished.

She was following Roland and Gabriel's lead only she had taken on her Crinos or war form. She was a blend of wolf and woman. Within those wolfen eyes was the intelligence of the woman.

She was moving into position when the first volley was fired. She came out in back of one of the bandits and tore into him with a savage fury. She was hunting and blood would be the prize. She was their melee fighter and she had advantages of her own.

She was a whirlwind of motion. Attacking with a speed and a grace that showed a discipline in her own moves. She was not out of control with bloodlust, but the calculating killer trained by Thanos and Liu.

Still where was the big man?

She was moving through the bandit camp, cutting a bloody path with tooth and claw. She was a hereditary lycanthrope. This meant her bite and claws were not infectious unless she enacted a special rite. It was a rite she never used.

She was scenting the air and stopped as she detected the scent of a bear very close. She took to searching for the big man as the roar came from Roland's position. An animal here, attacking Roland? Her blood chilled as she raced toward the knight.

She skidded to a halt as she witnessed the last terrible moments of the battle. She then did something else she was careful to use sparingly. She called upon her lover's true name. She could not bring herself to yell it as worried as she was for the younger knight. "Lupinius, Roland needs you."

She called not for herself but for this young knight...

And this was a prime example of why she never used the "Infectious bite" rite... The chances of a friend being hurt were too high.

He had not noted the bag man's disappearance - he should have, what with the centuries of experience under his belt. The vanishing act of someone that big should have been the first hing he noticed. But he's been dealing with small-timers for too long, and no truly cunning opponent had presented themselves to him in some time. And the distraction of being in the midst of battle does not help.

As he pulls the sword from the man under him, he notes another man bolting from the scene trying as hard as he can to get away from the two beasts - one that seems to be a blend of wolf and human, tearing through his companions as if they were paper dolls, another that shifts forms from a monstrous beast of a wolf to a man with wings as black as night, an angel bent on vengeance. He had not thought, when he signed on with this group, such a terrifying fate would present itself, and at this moment, all he can do is think of getting away from a scene that was something out of his worst imaginings.

For a moment, as he reaches the safety of the wood, he allows himself the conceit that maybe - just maybe - he might be safe. He fails to see, in his panicked state, the shimmering glow of violet-white light from the scene of the ambush, does not hear the fast footfalls of a wolf as it races after him, hot on his trail as he runs. In his mind, he's made a clean break, and he allows himself to continue this fantasy in his mind.

A moment later, in front of him, there appears a huge, silvery-grey wolf, springing from seemingly nowhere and colliding with him head-on. The last thing the bandit feels is huge jaws around his neck, sharp teeth piercing the skin, a shock of pain, and then all is black.

As Lupinius stands in his lupine form over the man's limp body, blood dripping from his jaws, he hears the roar of a bear. He'd know the sound well enough - he's spent a lot of time in the woods, in various places, and nearly all of them seem to have the great beasts. He starts heading back to the camp, and that's when he hears it.

Not with his ears, but with his mind, his soul...the sound of his lover speaking his name, his true name, quietly, but with a tone of urgency, worry...calling him for Roland.

There is a flurry of violet-white lights that consumes him and he vanishes, to appear a moment later, in his human form, right next to Roland. The scene that meets his sapphire eyes makes him freeze for a moment, his eyes wide. The scent makes him shake his head, and worry of his own stabs through his heart.

He knows the scent of lycanthropes of all kinds - he's run across a great many of them, and there is a distinctive trace of...something...that gives them away when they are in their animal forms.

And it is, without a doubt, here.

His eyes shift to Onyxia, and she would be able to see plainly the worry that fills them. "You can smell it too, can't you?"

Without waiting for an answer, he takes the head of the bear and wrenches open the jaws with enough force to make them crack, then shoves the beast away from Roland, pulling him gently away from the beast. Once they are clear, he touches his amulet with one hand, the other resting on the wound as violet light begins to glow around it. As he works, Lupinius' expression grows concerned, then sad, but he keeps on anyway.

A moment later, the wound has healed. As Lupinius takes his hand away, though, there to be seen is a scar, the imprint of the grievous wound that Arctos had inflicted upon Roland.

"The wound is closed...but the damage, I'm afraid, is done. Whatever this man was...he's infected Roland with it." This is said softly, though both Roland and Onyxia would be able to hear him clearly. "I can close the wound...but reversing this, I am afraid, is beyond my ability."

She had not shifted from her war form, so she was standing in all her savage glory. Her voice was gravelly as she forced the human words past the animal countenance.

"Roland, you need help." She rumbled softly, "I know what you are going through physically. I can help make the pain bearable."

Those quicksilver eyes peered out of the face of the silver werewolf. "You see the truth before you... Let us help you."

She was tempted to bring him to Mihaela who knew first hand what it is like to be infected, but she didn't want to risk the cubs.

"Please... keep your distance..." If they would not leave, at least they could stay far enough back to protect themselves; he implored them with breathless words, and from there descended into his native language, begging God for deliverance. The pain was taking hold, the transformation underway, and there was nothing he could do now to stop it.

Even as Sir Roland mastered his more human thoughts and impulses, the beast in him rose. He could smell blood and suddenly knew the mark of each, how they were different from one another, when before it was all the same indistinguishable coppery tang. His surroundings shifted in meaning, swiftly and dramatically; all life became like bright lights, magnetic beacons to his senses, while the rest of the world was transformed into a bleak backdrop.

Protect yourself... fight!

No!

Arctos preyed on his fear and his pain, even before the transformation was complete, urging him to fight his way out of this strange and frightening situation and flee to shelter, to a secure and safe place. Bones shifted and snapped, claws ripped their way cruelly through his skin, and he lifted his head back and cried out.

What emerged from his throat was a twisted amalgamation of the human yell at its most profoundly anguished, and the roar of a great beast, threatened and angry. Its rumbling bass echoed through the trees and the ground, and for miles... every creature that could hear paused, hesitated from whatever task it had been engaged in.

The Lord of the Forest had spoken.

The packed earth of the stable-yard was almost cool beneath VeeJay?s bare feet. She paced, unaccountably restless, instead of seeking her bed. There was something in the air, a rubber-band tension pulling tighter until ?

It snapped. A human voice ? Roland?s voice ? was yelling through the sound of a bass roar before the animal cry overwhelmed the human. The horses in the stable spooked, rearing and screaming in their stalls; Vidya froze with her head tilted to one side, holding her breath, listening. Praying. Let me hear him again. Let him be all right.

Hooves thudded against wood as one of the stallions pounded against the door of its stall, and inside the tavern people were stirring, startled and curious. Vee whirled, eyes wide and reflective green, straining to hear the sounds of the forest. Please, let me hear him again. There was nothing from the woods, just a frozen stillness. Fear was a sudden and choking thickness at the back of her throat; she couldn?t stay here, couldn?t wait, not knowing ? Please, let him be all right.

The stallion screamed again, and the noise of that almost covered the wet, gristly sound of bones cracking and sliding, muscles tearing into new alignments. Vidya didn?t scream as she transformed, as she shifted; it hurt, it always hurt, but there was no time for pain. Shreds of fabric fell around the large fox just as the tavern door swung open. Armand recoiled, the lamp held in his outstretched hand swinging and sending crazy shadows through the stable-yard. Fangs glinted behind the fox?s silent snarl as Vidya scented the air. He believes in You, God, please ? let him be all right.

?Get out of here, you! Scaring the horses!? Russet and black-tipped white, the fox streaked into the forest, chased by a strongly-thrown rock. Armand crossed the stable-yard and bent to pick up one of the shredded bits of fabric. Rubbing it between his fingers, a puzzled look crossed the man?s face. He frowned out into the strangely quiet woods before continuing into the stables, muttering under his breath.

Under the trees, paws tore through the loam as VeeJay followed the bright-painted scent of blood. A bear?s blood, a were?s blood ? and Roland?s blood. Let me hear him again. Let me see him again. Please, God, let him be all right.

His empathic senses, as the change grips him, light up like the proverbial Christmas tree. Rage, fear, confusion, conflicting emotions tear at him in rapid succession. Had he still been a demon, he might have...

But it doesn't do to think about such things. It is fortunate that he is not.

Still, as the bear before him paces back and forth, he can feel the conflict withing the animal, human and animal battling for control. And a sense of recognition of he and his love, knowing who they are, not allowing the beast to attack.

In a less cautious past, he might have been tempted to approach. As it is, though, he does not want the beast's instincts to take charge. Which they would easily - a lot of less seasoned people do not seem to understand the overriding power of that particular, animal quality, present even in the most civilized and disciplined of humans.

What can he do? Nothing, for the moment, except maybe to make the beast within more comfortable, to present it with a companion not far removed from itself.

He crouches, wings folding, to the earth, and violet light begins to shimmer around his body. This time it is noticably slower, dimmer, as he keeps it tightly controlled, allowing the change to come over him gradually, not wanting to startle the enraged beast into premature action. The dim light covers him, flowing over his form and shifting it.

A moment later, sitting in his place, is he in his lupine form - a large, silvery-grey timber wolf, his own size dwarfed by the massive bear in front of him, but not inconsiderable, nearly comparable to a small bear in his own right, looking at the bear calmly, making no moves that could be considered aggressive.

But still, ready, if this change should prove to be the wrong move.

The beast doesn?t think, not really. It hears, sees, senses things, and reacts. Clean and simple as a knife. Humans almost never react purely on instinct, truly without thought. There?s a reason that humans like guns so much. Weres, though ?

Weres are neither beast nor fully human. In human shape they are still more likely to react on instinct, without thought, whether in flight or to fight. And in beast form, a were still thinks? and fears.

Underbrush rustled, paws found purchase on forest loam, and the miles flew. It wasn?t fast enough, and VeeJay pushed herself harder, following the scent of blood on the air. Then ? a new scent threaded through the bright copper-red tang of blood; amber lupine musk replaced almost-human cool blue. And the ursine scent, red so dark it was nearly black, surged over Roland?s blue-iron-gunpowder, nearly erasing the traces she had been following.

A quiet canine whine was hushed. There were three living ahead, and Vidya went low to the ground. The pink glow of the full moon didn?t leave much in the way of shadows, but there were enough in the bushes near the small clearing. Creeping forward, russet fur blended surprisingly well with the foliage and allowed her close enough to see the occupants. A large silver timber wolf, a were in half-form ? and a huge bear, huffing and grumbling as it paced over the remnants of Roland?s clothing, grinding his small golden cross into the dirt.

Shock. It froze Vee?s muscles, widened reflective green eyes. It killed Roland. But her first thought, the instinctive reaction, was overridden by another. Because in the black-red scent of the bear, in the wild eyes and aggressive pacing, was a gunpowder-iron-blue thread. It is Roland. She couldn?t stop the yelp, the small, distressed bark. A faint whine in her throat, she crept forward, inching out of the bushes, the presence of the other two relegated to the smallest portion of her awareness. Her attention was on the bear, on Roland, on the beast, on the man. Please, God, let him be all right.

The message was received with a purely amused growl of acknowledgment. Once he lumbered off, her form started to shift and change. The wolf was mollified and the woman emerged.

The only move she made was to run a gentle hand along Lupinius' fur. A sensual touch for her mate. She well understood Roland's need to be with the other. It was a surprise to see the Fox appear

Interesting sight though... The woman and the huge timberwolf.