She splashed into the stream, paws soaking wet as she waded downstream in the shallow waters. The louder splashes either side behind her told her the two idiots she'd brought along were still keeping up with her through some small mercy. She would've likely lost them earlier had she not enjoyed the feeling of leading them. It was as though it were programmed into her very blood – the urge to guide – but that was hardly possible. Only alphas were meant to lead, not that Omega Taurus understood that or agreed with the sentiment.

They didn't trust the Weaver. They didn't trust their so-called god of fate to weave those golden threads into the correct tapestries.

Lyra had the suspicion they believed the only correct tapestries were their own. It was the case more often than not with those hungry for power. She'd seen that rather frequently on all her assignments.

Huffing, she pulled herself out of the stream, leaping up to the bank and back onto dry land. The waters were ice cold, but unfortunately necessary to conceal their tracks. Not that her paws appreciated that fact. Shaking her fur out, she started running, eyes darting over eastwards where the light was beginning to peak over the horizon.

Rays of pink light were shining, the sky almost looking as red as the blood she'd spilt as she bounded through the forest. They were going to be found missing from their rooms soon enough, and Lyra had enough sense inside her to not want to be anywhere near the base when they worked that out. The further away the made it, the better. Distance was key, and it was distance they'd have to keep, so Lyra forged on.

The sun rose completely, pinkish clouds drifting through the sky, and Lyra finally heard the howls far off in the distance. With a soft yip, she increased her pace, ignoring the rumbles of her stomach as red lightning spark around her fur. She needed to move faster.

Her ability obliged her – thankfully not deciding to malfunction for once – and she upped her speed. Glancing back at the other two, she grinned as best as she could in that form, blinking as they shuddered. A snort left her nose, and she turned back to face the front – and just in time to avoid the thick trunk of the white tree in front of her.

How could she forget how she must appear to them? Her eyes burnt red when her gift was activated. They glowed so brightly, just like the eyes of angels were said to when they were said to have battled the darkness that had once encroached on the lands so long ago. Red was the colour of the Moon Goddess' eyes, and when the moon turned that shade it was said the Goddess was looking down upon their world directly.

Bludmoonest.

The festival of the crimson eye.

She'd seen the festival so long ago on her assignment in close proximity to the Aria Religion. It always happened just before the end of the year. The twenty-fifth day of the twelfth month and the night which followed it. That was one of the many days the Children of Night celebrated. Lyra hoped she'd be able to participate in it too in the coming months. She would be free by then, no matter what it took.

She just needed to ensure she made it out of the forest unharmed and unpursued. "Small steps, Eighteen. Break your ploy down into smaller, manageable pieces." Lyra shook her head, shaking herself free of that voice. She just needed to remember what she had been taught, and not the voice of the one who'd spoken those words.

She ran up the hill, eager to break free of the hilly areas surrounding the base behind them. Once they were clear of those, it was a clear run back to civilisation. A clear run to what Gwen and Three called home.

Lyra didn't have a home.

Jealously had always surged through her whenever she'd overheard them at mealtimes. They were always together and always whispering to each other with bright, hopeful expressions. Idiots, the pair of them, Lyra thought, casting her red eyes back on them once more. They would never have survived in the darkness she'd lived in.

She had no recollection of the place she'd been kidnapped from unlike the two of them. Maybe it was because she had pushed those memories of a happier place to one side. "You belong in the darkness."

Growling, Lyra padded onwards, scenting the air in front of her. Freedom tasted and smelt rather nice, especially with the slight scent of civilisation added to the mix. The scents were almost unnoticeable if one wasn't looking specifically for them, since strong, overpowering smells weren't kind to the Children of Night. They had enhanced senses compared to other creatures – specifically eyesight, smell, and hearing. Three things which made them the ultimate moonlit hunters.

Her added speed with her gift only made her that much of a better hunter. Though she'd never had a chance to compete in a hunt, or some sort of race for speed. There were many of those, whether they be cycling or a race in the four-legged form, but with her upbringing competing in such events hadn't been possible.

While other children were out playing with their parents, she'd been learning the vital points of the body whether they be in furry form or otherwise. When other children had been learning to ride bikes, she'd been busy making corpses out of her targets. While they'd been enjoying their childhoods, she was busy being tortured and tormented in hers.

Her neck itched again, and Lyra made sure to ignore it. There was no point in stopping just to scratch at her neck. It was all in her head, anyway.

Wind ruffled through her fur, and she continued to run through the forest. Tiredness was eating at her limbs, her belly growling with hunger, but Lyra only paused to rip some berries she recognised off the bushes – and even then that little break was only five minutes at most. The other two followed in her lead, chasing after her as she continued to run and run until the trees began to thin out.

It was mid-afternoon by then, but they were out. They were safe, for the most part. She just needed to keep herself that way.

Yawning, Lyra crept behind the nearest tree, shifting smoothly back onto two legs. She stretched out her hands, relishing at the feeling of her opposable thumbs. It was one of the reasons werewolves rarely tended to shift while about the house. Hands could do plenty of things paws couldn't. Shifting had become less of a common occurrence compared to the warring years centuries before.

Though if Omega Taurus had any say, they'd bring those years of bloodshed back about.

That was one of the key reasons she despised them, not including all the torment they'd personally put her through – and if that alone wasn't enough to make her despise them, she didn't know what would.

Pulling her clothes back on, she stumbled back out on aching legs, eyeing her two companions as they joined her – dressed, ready, and utterly exhausted. "We're not far out from the nearest town," she said, sniffing again, turning her head towards where the scent of civilisation came from. "This way, but once we reach there, you're on your own," she continued, walking away from them both without another word.

Snow crunched under her bare feet, and she pressed on. She could ignore the icy chill, yet another useful thing that had come from all her training. Crisp, clear imprints of her feet were left in her wake, but they were far enough that it didn't matter. As soon as she took the nearest bus, her trail would be that much harder to pin down.

A smile curled at her lips, cold and utterly feral at the thought of her long-awaited freedom. She was almost there, and she could almost taste it on the breeze.

"Soon," she whispered, brow wrinkling as she sniffed at the air again. There was another scent on the wind. One she recognised rather intimately, having spilled it many a times. "Blood," Lyra realised, eyes narrowing on the direction it was coming from. Someone was bleeding, and from how strong the stench was – they were close. "We need to move..."

"We can wait for a few minutes, can't we?" Gwen's voice chimed, cutting off her protests before she could. "We're all exhausted..."

"I'm going on ahead," she muttered, rolling her eyes. "I guess this is where we part ways then..."

"Oh." Gwen blinked. "I guess... well, thanks for getting us out. I know Three really appreciates it too!"

Lyra sighed. "I don't need your appreciation," she grumbled. "Though don't stay here too long, unless you've lost your sense of smell you should be able to scent all the blood in the air."

"Probably just a hunt," Gwen said cheerily.

"Suit yourself," she said, running towards the town or village she could scent on the wind. "Try not to get caught, would you?" she muttered, knowing already it was likely a lost cause with the two of them.

Hurrying through the forest, fallen leaves and snow underfoot, she smiled – and promptly tripped over something lukewarm and vaguely person-shaped.

A corpse.

A recently killed one too.

Lyra groaned, pushing herself to her hands and knees, not wanting to look at the cooling body she'd just tripped over. Today was not going to be a perfect day it seemed. She glanced up, blinking at the sight of the pair of feet in front of her, and her eyes locked on the bloodied knife clutched in one hand. "Oh... I thought they'd cordoned the area off already..." Chocolate brown eyes sparkled with madness, and Lyra fought the urge to sigh in exasperation. "Too bad for you."

Lyra stopped fighting the urge and sighed loudly. Her eyes turned red, her ability cooperating with her once again, and crimson sparks crackled to life around her body. Today really wasn't going to be her day it seemed.