Zalia tossed and turned, unable to sleep. It was the day of the Full Moon festival, and since the encounter in the woods, Zalia hadn't been able to get a wink of rest. Although she was fatigued beyond comprehension, Zalia was planning on hunting wolves that night.

Finally giving up on sleep, she sharpened every knife she had, fletched arrows, worked on a pair of boots for Ice-chill, and scrubbed every inch of her wolf-leather clothes she had.

There was a reason for her behavior, she knew. Even without the events of the days before, wolf-hunters always acted like this this before a Full Moon. Something about the presence of so many packs did something to the carefully cultivated senses of the wolf-hunters.

Zalia shrugged on her wolf-leathers, strapped her gleaming knives on, filled her quiver, and snatched up her bow. She could see the streams of people going to the festival, sometimes called the Harvest Moon festival for its timing. The sky was the color of tongues of flame, red and orange and gold flashing across the heavens, with gray clouds drifting like smoke between them.

Zalia flung open her door, breathing in the smell of the night air. It helped calm her, a little. Night air always did. Dashing down the path towards the forest, she heard a chorus of howls welcoming her to the forest's own Full Moon festival. Zalia grinned, grabbed her bow, and went hunting.

->->->->O<-<-<-<-

Around an hour later, near midnight, Zalia was chasing a wolf. It was on the smaller size, and its fur was silver-brown. Its sightless brown eyes stared into the shadows of a nearby rowan tree, which was covered in vines. Zalia followed its gaze, an old habit of hers.

It had been started by her first official wolf-hunter master, a tall man named Fin with a love of superstitions. He thought that every animal tried to tell us something in death, and by following its eye you could find it. Zalia herself had never found anything, and she certainly didn't start finding things now. Only an old dead tree.

A rustled sounded as a something shot by her. Zalia staggered back, clutching her weapons before she realized that it was only a robin. She let out her breath, then paused. Birds usually don't fly at night, Zalia thought, which means that that bird was awakened by a-

"Wolf!" Zalia said, rearing back as a bronze-colored hound darted past. Shaking off her surprise, Zalia snatched her bow and gave chase. As she neared the brown-gold wolf, Zalia gave a yelp of shock and pain. The wolf sped away as Zalia looked down. A thorn three inches long had pierced her moccasin and was now buried in her foot, leaking trickles of blood. With a growl, she ripped it out and moved on.

She could see the wolf tiring as they ran, and she slowly got closer and closer. With a flick of the wrist, her silver knives were in her hands. She was about to bear down on the wolf when a flash of movement on her right caught her eye.

Zalia instinctively slashed her knife towards the movement and found herself shattering an arrow in two. The wolf flashed away, but Zalia didn't care. With a low growl she looked warily around her. "Out," she commanded. The bushes rustled slightly as a boy her age stalked out of them.

He was tall, with dark, thick hair the color of the rowan tree. His eyes were a curious orange-yellow, a stark contrast to Zalia's own night-sky eyes. The most startling part, however, was his Wolf-hunter garb. It was a darker brown than Zalia's, but with the same silver accents along the seams. It was long-sleeved, with built-in gloves that outlined his slender fingers, but his cloak did not appear to have a hood. He carried Wolf-hunter knives identical to Zalia's own silver ones, and a blackwood bow in his hand.

The two Wolf-hunters circled each other for a moment in silence before the boy spoke.

"What are you doing in the Wolf-Hunter's woods?" he asked calmly, but his words had an edge to them, like silk-wrapped blades.

Zalia rolled her eyes. "For your non-existent brain's information, I am a Wolf-Hunter." She held her knives and rolled her eyes. "And furthermore, I'm the king's Wolf-hunter, and these are my woods."

The boy blinked. "Oh. I'm Azira, by the way, Wolf-hunter of Lightfire fife." For the first time, Zalia noticed a silver armband much like her own, except that there was a carved tongue of flame on the front, the symbol of the fife Azira claimed to be from.

Zalia rolled her eyes. Great. "And just what exactly are you doing in my woods on a full moon?"

Azira narrowed his very handsome and strange eyes. "You keep saying 'your woods'. Why are they yours? Who are you?" Zalia's eyes flickered to where his hands were edging to his knives. Azira himself was checking Zalia's own weapons out, but he was much less stealthy.

Zalia snorted. "I'm surprised you don't know. Actually, wait. I'm not. You don't look like the sharpest arrow in the quiver." Azira growled, but Zalia just gave him a charming grin. "Aw, don't get mad! Just get out and that'll be good enough."

"Fine. But I expect to see you again, and when I do, I want to know who you are," Azira hissed. He snatched up his bow and turned to glare at Zalia one more time.

"See you around, Wolf-Boy!" Zalia called after him. Maybe Zalia was imagining it, but she could've sworn a growl drifted back to her.

->->->->O<-<-<-<-

As the moon reached its peak, Zalia gave the female wolf corpse a final lift off of her shoulders and onto the sled along with the rest of the carcasses. After Azira had disappeared, the night had been uneventful. Zalia, keeping tally in her head and on her sled, had killed four wolves.

Exhaling loudly, she dusted off her hands and was about to go back for another wolf when a sound made her freeze. For all she knew, it could've been a mile away, for Full Moon heightened Wolf-hunter senses. Pulling her knives out slowly with a shink, Zalia, turned around at the speed of honey.

Standing on a rock nearby, the golden wolf sat, its head cocked and gold eyes staring straight into Zalia's. Trying to look away, Zalia felt a burning sensation in her core. The next instant, she was flat on her back, the gold wolf pining her down.

Struggling, Zalia tried to reach her knives and throw the wolf off, but to no avail. Finally, Zalia stopped fighting and stared at the wolf. "The Moons do you want?" Zalia snapped at it. It stepped off of her, the golden fur shimmering like captured sunlight. Slowly, Zalia struggled onto her feet and backed away. Her foot slipped, and she realized that she was on the edge of the gorge that ran through the forest. She quickly pulled her foot back before the crumbling earth could give way.

The gold wolf prowled toward Zalia, who tried to skirt along the cliff edge. The burning sensation appeared again, and then the wolf was by her. As the pain grew too much to bear, Zalia grabbed her knife and stabbed the golden hound. The next thing she knew, Zalia tumbled over the cliff and was falling, falling, falling. Seconds before she hit the ground, the pain became too great, and darkness greeted her.

->->->->O<-<-<-<-

Shadows and night wrapped around her, whispering like snakes. The words were nonsense, and that was when she could even understand them. She tried pushing against them, but they were sticky and flooded over her again.

Koltan-Elvresh, the shadows whispered, repeating over and over. Koltan-Elvresh. She struggled again.

"Who are you?" She cried. "What are you? Who am I?"

The shadowy tendrils snickered. We are Shadow and Night and Darkness. We are the Last.

"Last?" She cried. "Last of what? Who am I? What do you want?"

Koltan-Elvresh, Koltan-Elvresh, born to live and die in darkness... the Last chortled. Koltan-Elvresh, Koltan-Elvresh, daughter of night and dark and sadness... Koltan-Elvresh...

Zalia woke with a start, squinting her eyes against the noonday sun. How long was I asleep? She wondered, before remembering with a shudder the Last and their creepy chant. Koltan-Elvresh? I know Koltan is a Far Isle word... Shanna will know.

The tall Wolf-Hunter pushed herself up before suddenly realizing that she was in the bottom of the gorge. And yet uninjured. Even though she had stabbed the gold wolf and fallen off the cliff.

The wolf... Zalia thought as she started up the cliff face. What even happened last night? With a grunt, she stabbed her hand into another crevice. Did Azira discover my wolf corpses? He'd better not have, or else Lightfire fife will have to find a new Wolf-Hunter.

Finally, Zalia reached to top to find that her wolves were not, in fact, missing, and that her bow and other weapons were still lying there. The golden wolf, however, was dead and gone, with only a pool of blood and a scrap of fur the color of sunlight. Sighing, Zalia dragged her wolves back to her cottage and pulled out her wolveskilled.

Wolveskilled was something that all Wolf-Hunters had, a special staff on which the Wolf-Hunter would record the number of wolves they killed that star-cycle. One the star-cycle was complete, the Wolf-Hunter would make a new wolveskilled and start over. All wolveskilled were made out of the darkest wood a Wolf-Hunter could find, with a sharp silver blade at each end. Once the night's tally was made, the Wolf-Hunter was to polish the blades until they gleamed.

With several sharp slashes, Zalia sliced five marks into the black wood that was the same color of her hair. The next star-cycle ended in a moon-cycle, upon which Zalia would go into the forest and carve her wolveskilled in the moonlight. Wrapping the wolveskilled back into its black wolf-leather, Zalia put it back into its place and prepared to leave for the Wolf's-Head Inn.

Zalia pushed into the inn, breathing in the warm smell of roasting meat. Making her way towards the counter, she looked around for Shanna, but the auburn-haired cook was nowhere to be seen. Frowning, she laid the wolf-meat she had brought on the counter and waved Jene over.

"Yu, Koltan-Geresh?" the blond girl asked, curls bouncing.

"Jene, have you seen Shanna recently?" Zalia asked, keeping her voice low.

Jene's brown eyes widened. "Niv, I haven't." Her gaze darkened. "She left for her friltak, her lunch, and hasn't come back." She swallowed. "I do hope something hasn't happened to her. If she dies, Pleta becomes head cook." Jene pointed to a tall, hawk-nosed woman who was yelling something at a cowering waitress.

Zalia sighed. "Fine." She pushed herself back from the counter, nodding to the meat. "I brought that for Shanna, you should probably keep it from Pleta." Waving goodbye to Jene, Zalia exited the Inn and started looking for her friend.

Not too-long after, Zalia was taking a rest against a building wall, grateful for having ditched the signature Wolf-Hunter clothes before coming into town. Otherwise, she would've been attracting more attention trying to blend into those than standing out in the open in the moss-green clothes she had now.

A brown-haired girl was skipping down the street singing in a thick accent. Zalia didn't pay too much attention until she realized what the song lyrics were.

A bushel of wheat

My ma gave me

And told me to beware!

For the wolves of the forest

Aren't as bad as the hunters

That give little girls a scare.

Oh the hunters,

The hunters,

The Hunters of the Hounds!

Beware you children,

Beware of the Hunters

Or you'll end up in the ground!

Zalia frowned and put her arm out to stop the girl. "Excuse me," Zalia asked her, bending down to the girl's eye level. "Have you seen an auburn-haired woman?"

The girl hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah, by the..." She trailed off, staring at Zalia's blackwood bow and wolf-leather quiver. Her eyes narrowed. "You... Yous is a Wolf-Hunter..."

Zalia sighed. "Not so loudly! Yes, I am. I'm the High King's Wolf-Hunter, but you can call me Zalia." She looked the girl in the eyes. "A friend of mine is missing. Her name is Shanna, and she runs the Wolf's-Head Inn." Zalia hooked her thumb around and pointed to the Inn. "She disappeared not too long ago."

The girl exhaled. "Aye, I have seen her. The name's Quel, by the way." She smiled slightly. "My pa is the head of the city watchmen. I was practicin' my scouting skills and was watchin' her. She was shoppin' down on the east side of the village. I got bored of watchin' her, an' when she was a-goin' down 'wards the pier, I left."

Zalia nodded. "Thanks, Quel." She started walking away when she glanced over her shoulder and said quietly, "You know, Quel, not all Wolf-Hunters are as bad as the ones in the song." Turning, Zalia walked down the street towards the pier, her black braid swinging.

->->->->O<-<-<-<-

Zalia wrapped her cloak tighter to keep the spray from soaking her skin. The piers were slippery with water and crusted with salt in places, and gulls were screeching almost as loud as the sailors themselves. As Zalia walked along the white hull of a ship labeled Half Moon, she was about to call out to the sailors when a flash of movement caught her eye. She turned to see Shanna, being kidnapped by two men.