It was a freezing night.

Bone chillingly freezing cold, and a small lone wolf tried to curl into a tighter ball in the hollow she’d scraped in the soft forest floor. It smelled comfortingly of leaf mould and peat beneath. It reminded her of her home that she had left what seemed like an age before.

And odd.

Most odd. Bitingly cold though it was, there was no frost glinting on the leaves. No display of glitter to dance on the bare rocks protruding from the floor of this strange forest. Nothing settling on the fields of grey shale that she had spent what felt like an eternity trekking over before she had reached this forest. Nothing cheering. And the thing – the one thing that disconcerted her most – was the fact that although the landscape was lit by a silvery glow, there was no moon. This, to a werewolf like her was like having no air, no water, no blood in your body and this chilled her to the bone more than the biting air ever could.

The sky above her was black. Totally black. No sun, stars, no moon, no colour. A velvet blanket where the sky ought to be.

Why was she here? She wondered this now as she moved her tail further over her sensitive nose which was now beginning to sting.

That was an interesting question. Why exactly WAS she here?

"Because she had to be" – answered the compulsion in her head. Her eyes began to water and she closed them in defence from the cold. Like so many others who had embarked on a long journey, she began to think back to when she had left. Why she had left. Her family.

No.

No need to think about them. No need to make matters worse.

As she lay, her thick fur began to trap heat and in the black silence, sleep slowly crept over her.

A landscape creeps into view. A yellow grassy plain lit by the dipping sun, surrounded by fir tree ringed mountains topped with icing sugar snow. The sky is busy with birds, mainly crows doing their best to keep the place clean and sundry other kinds that generally all find solace in a flock. The forest looks still, but occasionally a deer running between bare patches betrays the fact that it is teeming with hidden inhabitants and the plain holds all the usual bounty such a place has to offer. Heavy bovine legs moving their cargo like so many long haired glaciers to their destination, caribou weaving in between and flocks of birds erupting from the long grass as the hooves disturb their foraging. And on the edge of hearing, from the top of the forest, some wolves are howling.

A small pack, perhaps six strong are milling in the trees. The howl washes over them like a gentle wave and as one, six faces turn skyward and the wave rolls on. Their duty done, their message passed, the pack return to their business until the call comes again.

"There’s something over there…."

"Rat, there’s nothing over there.."

"No, there is…there’s something over there."

"We checked earlier, there’s nothing over there. Now concentrate, OK?"

"But there is….can’t you feel it? It’s making my skin creep…..

"For the last time, there is nothing there. Yussef and Fraeja checked and there is nothing there."

"But…."

"But nothing"

"Awwww…"

The smallest, thick set wolf with a long reddish coat slumped down on the floor and set about removing something from between her toes with a snuffling sound. Wrath, the taller powerfully built silver wolf took position in the centre of the pack and lifted his head once more.

And the wave rolled on.

He lowered his head, as did the others. And Rat was gone.

She pushed her way into the undergrowth, the twigs catching in her long fur, more used to the open forest floors and plains. It had to be here, the thing she felt. Like…like a grass seed in your ear. She couldn’t see it, but she knew it was there and it would tug at her until she found it. And she had to go to it. She had to find it. And she would.

She could hear her pack calling for her. Some concerned, one most definitely angry. Well. It wasn’t the first time he’d been angry at her, and it certainly wasn’t likely to be the last. Rat had a habit of irritating him, sometimes not even on purpose. Well, she’d show him. And the rest of them. She’d find this…thing….whatever it was and damn well show them…maybe. She walked on, and wondered if this was how a swallow felt at the end of summer.

The owls started to call and the howling started to fade into nothing. Her pack wouldn’t worry too much. She was given to wandering off. And besides, she could look after herself, small though she was. She felt a small pang of guilt as she padded on through the clinging branches, head down, trying to find some clue of a scent. The feeling was getting stronger now, almost unbearable and she broke into a run, ignoring snags and thorns in her feet. She laboured through the branches, brambles, bracken and and ivy, her eyes half closed to protect them from the whipping fronds. She ran until all familiar scent was behind her and her lungs felt like they were going to burst. She ran until she almost forgot what she was running for, driven only by the urge to go forwards.

And then she saw it.