Three: And so it begins

A dense scowl burns through Lord Sabar's face as he holds his weeping wife. It was not uncommon, for many have been taken, but she was their youngest.

People were scattered throughout the cove, some quietly sitting dishearten by news of the young princess, others fuming into brawls. The recruiting warriors stand disgraced. Their heads bowed down upon reporting what had happened.

The "main" steps forward. His shame etched deeply into his silver gaze. He carries one of the human contraptions in his well-defined arms and throws it on the ground. "Their machines are getting more unpredictable. I was not able to save her." The iron claw covered in patches of fur and blood.

Stepping out from the crowd, Prince Rasah extends his sorrow to the warriors. "I thank you all. These are difficult times and I know you each of you would have sacrificed your life for my sister." He gestures to an area of wrapped bodies. "Some of you did. Father - " he motions back. "Let me keep and study this death weapon. It will serve us good."

Lord Sabar accepts this comply with a heavy nod. A hot cavernous rage festered inside him. For centuries they have lived away from men, but even so, it has come to the point that perhaps even hiding no longer shields their existence. As the elder of this clan, he knows very well what men can do and the lengths men will go.

His long hair whips as he shoots up from his throne. Approaching the warriors, they cower in his towering presence. "I know my daughter well. It pains me to admit that she may have brought this on herself... but she is still my daughter... a member of this tribe," the lord's voice growing louder. "The outside world is dangerous and more feral than you all could possibly know. I cannot risk losing any more of you, therefore, I alone will retrieve our princess."

Severed shout and snarls echo from the crowd causing the "main" kneels before the lord.

"Let me assist you, my lord! I have dealt with the humans before. Seen their faces. Tasted their traps. I know their smells and the numbers of the mobile they ran away on. I was chosen as your "main" so let me prove to you that that decision is precise. Let me be your right hand!" He says with clenched fists.

Lord Sabar touches his shoulder.

Their eyes meet. "If your allegiance is as strong as you say, Davut, then you may fight beside me."

A melody of howls surfaces from the crowd expressing their opinions in agreement. They all look up to the top of the rock formation where an opening reveals the pale moon. This night is a night of celebration. Blessings of dance, drinking, and pleasures ensue as the night deepens. Little did they know the trouble that would await them.

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She awakes inside a large cage inside an even larger room. Unlocking the latch, she cautiously crawls out. Her dirtied fingers tracing over her bandaged wrist. It was cleaned and neatly wrapped. However, the pain still strongly present, causes her to grip it as she stands. She feels a something cold around her neck. Clawing and pulling away without success it feels like a steel collar. Although dark, her head swivels back and forth as she tries to get a read of the room. Her eyes gleam with superior night vision; one of many abilities transfers over from shape-shifting.

A dangling black light pendant hung above. The walls were padded blue with a dark brown wooden floor which sat under a great burgundy rug. Aside from her was a box full with plastic chew toys and a fur dog bed. She eyes a small blanket and wraps it around her naked sore body. There were no windows but a tall door which a row of silver light peeked from under. Faint sounds develop as she walks closer. She presses her ear up against it then crouches down to peer through the crack. She detects two men speaking but unclear on the source of conversation. Suddenly, a loud set of footsteps pass, startling her back, as a woman calls out something in urgency. She runs to the farthest back end of the room. Sinking to the floor she curls underneath the blanket.

Bleak thoughts fill her mind as she thinks back to her family. She remembers her older sister, Zeira, conservative and fierce. Known for her skill with an arrow, she was a renowned warrior. Then the oldest, her brother Saminey, who was a master of medicine. There was not an infliction he couldn't heal, and out of most, had the greater knowledge of man and their contraptions. Lastly, there were her mother and father, who has proudly ruled and cared for the tribe. Sometimes she wonders how such a scary brute came to marry such a gentle women. Respected by many, only to have an untamed inadequate daughter who got seized out in the wildlands during her usual curiosity treks. Perhaps they were better off. Perhaps this was fate biting down on her. Perhaps she deserves this.

The doorknob turns and a figure steps though. Flicking on the lights, the woman screams dropping a bowl of water. The sound of her boots clack down the hallway as she screams to her employer.

"HELP! HELP ME! It's not in its cage!!! She buries her face in her hands comforted by Oscar. Both men look at each other tensely.

Oscar straightens out the sniveling maid placing both hands on her arms. "Mrs. Pittingham, where is the -"

They all turn as a violent growl exudes from the room. The air grew heavy with dread as the door was left wide open. Mrs. Pittingham climbs a tier higher onto the sofa mumbling small prayers as she frightfully holds onto Oscar. Mr. Logan reaches for his pocket and waits.

For what seemed about the longest minute, a large paw emerges into sight. Then a face and body. Now free, the wolf seemed much larger to Mr. Logan than before inside a cage. He watches as the wolf creeps into the living room with a guarding stance. He assures his employees' safety while outstretching his left arm. Stepping forward, the wolf snaps towards them. Mrs. Pittingham screams behind Oscar as he leans back in fright; his eyes bulging out of his body. Mr. Logan compulsively pushes his buzzer instantly shocking the collar. The wolf collapses from the powerful surge and faints as he releases the button.

"Is it dead?" Mrs. Pittingham utters frightfully behind Oscar.

"No...but we only have a couple hours until she wakes back up." Mr. Logan motions towards the wolf. "I cant have another accident like this occur."

Oscar pulls away from her clammy hands before clearing his throat. "I concur, Mr. Logan. Shall I call that Elias fellow to retrieve this … thing?"

"Dont be silly." He swings around like a flip of a switch and closely hands his phone to Oscar. "We need a bigger cage. I want this one!"

"BUT SIR! Surely you -"

"Thank you. Let me know when all the arrangements are done," he waves as pulls the wolf by one of her hind legs, dragging her back to the room. It was an unsightly image causing the two to question their employer's sanity.