Hanging over the the Tauren mountain range, the full moon, accompanied by little clouds that drifted in front of it ominously, illuminated the Hartland Forrest, where the Sul river sliced through it, the water reflecting the moon's eerie beauty.
On a lonely hunter's trail, carpeted by brown needles, a few kilometers away from the nearest town, Pamela Mcbeth ran for her life, tears of sorrow and fear running down her cheeks. Behind her the form of a furry beast followed her, its yellow eyes glowing in the darkness.
Although it could easily close the distance between the women and it, the beast, for some reason, kept its distance, like it was merely following her out of curiosity rather than malice. Pamela broke through the woods, and, with a great amount of courage, stole a glance behind her.
The beast was gone. She breathed heavily, her chest heaving. Pamela was standing at the riverside, the lights of Stockhill, the town that she lived in, visible in the distance to the south. With her wits returning after the shock, the black-haired teen collapsed to the rocky shore.
She couldn't believe it. Her love of her life, Arthur, was dead. Or that was at least what she thought happened. When Pamela followed him into the woods this night, she lost track of him. Soon she heard yelps of pain, followed by the howl of a wolf.
The next thing Pamela knew was that she was being chased by an unknown giant animal. She suspected it killed him, and that she, with her presence, provoked it to do so. Pamela felt sick with guilt, but she had to know why her boyfriend disappeared into the woods at night when the moon was full.
Pamela begged for many months to tell her why, but Arthur would only laugh nervously, giving her vague answers or would try to change the subject. But, as she sat there in shelf-pity, an idea struck her. What if the wolf was Arthur?
She couldn't ponder the idea for long, because Pamela felt like something was watching her. Looking up, she saw the beast from earlier on a large boulder. It watched her with its those yellow eyes of it, sitting on its haunches, not moving a single muscle.
Now properly in the moonlight, Pamela could see its brown fur, its bulging muscles, and its large wolf-like head. The way its anatomy was designed, the beast looked like it could switch from being bipedal to quadruped, and quadruped to bipedal, at will. Standing, it would most likely stand seven feet tall.
Pamela screamed, jumping to her feet, and running down the rocky riverside towards Stockhill. The wolf-like creature watched her leave, making no move to intercept her. The beast sat there, studying her, cocking its head left and right, trying to figure out who it was. The two-legged creature's identity was somewhere hidden in the back of its mind.
It sniffed the air, using the two-legged's scent help the beast. "Prey?" it thought, offering a solution to itself. The beast took another sniff of the air, thus time something familiar coming to it. "No," it corrected itself, its glowing eyes growing wide, "Mate!"
The beast's tail began to wag. Quickly it decided what it should do.
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