A Cry in the Night

[Nekulor]

Lithien ran through the inky black forest near her village, just to the northwest of Silverymoon. It was following her, and she knew it. She continued to run, all the while unsheathing a black and rather tarnished bow. The arrows for this oddity hung limply across her back in a quiver and continued to bounce along merrily as she ran through the woods. She had to keep running as the crashes resounding in the nearby brush were not nearly a good sign. Then, as suddenly as the beast had begun the chase, it broke it off, the forest growing as silent as one of the ancient tombs that littered the area around her.

She knealt down to compose herself, bow still unsheathed. Ahead, a statue of some long forgotten empire's dead rose high into the trees. She did not see the thing on the statue, she never heard its slow, subtle movements on the sturdy branches. It had the mobility of a drow, with the physical form of a wolf. When she realized that, however, it was upon her. Two slahes were brought to bear on her, tearing mail like soft silk. The beast was huge, with the tell tale eyes of the most malicious drow. He had been inflicted while scouting the surface, and she watched as the madness of lycanthropy took him. Then two shots were loosed from the bow, crackling with fire. The beast recoiled and fled off into the night, its fur blazing with magical fire.

Dragging herself to the statue, Lilthien lay down and donned her cloak. "It cannot survive an ember arrow to the chest," she thought. Sleep soon took her as she lay thinking this over.

When she awoke, it was twilight of the next day. Oddly, the gigantic gashes on her shoulder and torso were healed. All that remained was an inflamed area on her arm from the first fight before her flight fom the beast. It itched as if it were on fire, yet she decided to set off for home, as her family would worry for her safety. As the full moon rose above the horizon, she fell to the ground in pain, her wound nearly breaking open again as if agrivated by some unseen force. All too late she realized what the wound was. She had been bitten, and it was consuming her.

As the moon came to its apex, one could hear an ethereal cry echo from the forest, a woman's cry turning into the primal howl of a wolf.