ILL TELL YOU A TALE OF HOW THE FIRST Lycan's were created, divided. On a cold November night in a small village somewhere in London in the year 1683. On this night an ancient law had been broken, one that stood for hundreds of years, it defied every law against nature. One hundred years ago wolves were plentiful, beautiful creature, but they were also dark, grim and deadly. Once every full moon the townsmen would go in search of a wolf and take its life, now the wolves who roam are few and little, protected, a signal of peace between man and beast. But this law would soon remain broken.
   It was on a night in a cold and dreadful winter, one so harsh food became little and nothing could hardly survive the bleak cold. All animals began to fade, but one thrived, an animal so beastly and grim yet beautiful and untamed. It was the last of its kind.
   The frozen silence of a winter’s night, matted umber pine needles peak out from a thin layer of frost as trees sag from the weight of yesterdays snowfall. Then, the age-old silence was broken, the song of a wolf rung out vibrantly, it was beautiful.  It went cold, nothing, a type of sadness consumed the forest as the trees wept.  
   A loud voice then broke out joyously, it riled up celebrating. “We shall feast like kings tonight!” Another voice joined in cheerfully in a yowl of excitement. Four men gathered in the shrouded forest as a small clearing breached and they rejoice in their newfound kill, they all rejoice happily, except one.  They drug themselves heavily back to the outskirts of a small village that stood close by, thick fog was a veil in the air, they shield their eyes and pressed on as the twisted winds worsen.
   The dark and tattered coal colored wolf hung low behind them, slung over one’s back. All life had gone in a wave of sadness and the forest still cried for was a mother, the moon closed its eyes as it was no more to howl and wail out it’s soul to it and sing it’s song. The corpse slid across the frozen earth, it’s beady eyes shut tight.
   The dense and shadow covered grove wasn’t too far out from the village, just far enough to make a grown man weak and tried, frozen by the minute he steps foot from the comfort of fire and warmth in his home.
   The four men trekked closer to the Village outskirts, the cottage was worn and bare from the harsh weather that beat down. One of the four men let out a bellows laugh as they talked, another disagreeing. “You know the laws, Victor!” He told angry, pausing in the thick blanket of snowfall. “We shouldn’t have taken the wolf’s life,” He drew in the cold air into his lungs in a
sudden manner. “Even if it was to survive.”
    “Oh hush, Malcolm.” Another man huffed, his breath flying from his jaws, he took charge in front and continued marching forward towards the cottage. Their conversation was short and stubborn, words were quick to end.
   The sky, now darkening as the moon began its dreadful climb to reach the highest peak in the sky. Shadows grew and consumed the land by the second and dim stars now dapple the dove-gray sky lightly, and snow began to fall gracefully once more. Though the snowfall and danced through the sharp and bitter winds, it was deadly.
  The four men entered the cottage, slinging the wolf aside and closing the aged wooden door that creaked behind their backs. “We bring food!” The man who entered first called, taking off his frozen coat that was speckled with ice and resting down his weapon as snow scattered from his boots. They were first greeted by a younger fellow who hastily jolted forward and wrapped his arm around the man who entered first.
   “Viktor,” He smiles, his voice cracking in surprise. “You have returned safe brother, I'm glad.”
   “As always Henrik, you’d be a fool to think otherwise.” He replied, filled with pride and a grin, pushing away his brother, holding his thin shoulders. “Where are Jesper and Mirabeth,”
   “Out gathering wood for the fire.” Told the younger man. “What did you bring back from your hunt?” He asks anxious and wide-eyed, a cold breeze brushed through the air while he spoke. Victor’s blue ice-ridged gaze scanned the empty, ghost-quiet room, through the clutter and weaponry, pulling his brother to the side with a whisper of words. “A wolf my dear brother. She shall feed us for weeks! She was alone and strayed from her pack.” He drew in a nice, warm breath to replenish his lungs. “He was frail and could barely stand.”
   His brother grew confused with a sadness that crowded in his brown gaze. He took a step back against the rear wall. “Brother,” He whispered in the silence, his breath filled worrisome. “You know it is against the laws, they’ll kill you!” He cried. “Them as well.” He shook in a distant fear that grew, observing the three who loomed hush in the doorway. His breath quickened.
   “Calm Henrik,” Viktor spoke gently, his blue gaze was sincere yet something dark grew in it.
   It had grown darker as the in vanished and owls sound from outside through the hard winter nights. “You know Mother will not be pleased with your actions, Victor,” Henrik said in a panic, another’s voice joining in. “I told him not to take the wolf’s life, he did not listen.” He snorted. “He is as stubborn and ignorant as an old mule.” The man growled sternly from the entrance. “I tried stopping his before be took the shot, he has never obeyed the laws nor the pure respect for nature.” The voice hushed it's insulting, echoing throughout the worn cottage.
  “Oh please, Malcolm.” Viktor cut, his expression tired and bitter. “You know you wanted to take Wolf’s life just as bad as any of us.” He pulled out a chair from the simple table next to him, the legs grinding against the floor with an evil screech that shredded the air. Before words could start to fly once again a sleek silhouette stepped from around a corner, startling them all.
   “Welcome back,” The voice softly spoke with charm and elegance, the soothing voice of a middle-aged woman. “It was getting late, I began to worry. I assume your hunt went well and was successful?” Her emerald eyes consumed all of them before she spoke again. “Malcolm, Clayton, Alric.” She smiles with a nod of her brown locks, something dark twisted inside of Viktor’s stomach. He turned to Henrik who slumped against the wall with a gaze of terror, their eyes locking.
   “Yes, Mother. It was.” Viktor shifted beginning to grow tired and restless, taking a seat at the table as his chair squeaked.
   “Well?” She questioned. “Tell me.” her voice fell with tones of demands, falling heavily, glancing to the three who simply never moved from under the entrance. “A wolf,” Viktor told, plain with no emotion, interlocking his still, cold hands together as they thaw in the warmth. Her eyes grew wide and dark, an ice formed in them with a constant sorrow, the one most dear to her betrayed the laws. “Henrik,” She replied in grief. “Go join Jesper and your sister.” She told, nothing else was said, he didn’t argue nor did it cross his frail mind. Henrik turned and left quickly, the cold air rushed in as the door flung open, the winds whistle outside as they once faded and the door shut, warmth turning to cold. Her eyes showed no emotion, no loss for her son. A dark flicker grew in her olive green gaze. “You know the laws, my child.” She pained saddened. “You know it’s forbidden to take Wolf’s life.” She closed forward, her feet sliding across the old wooden floor. Viktor rose from his seat quick and cautious, one hand firmly planted on the table and his jaws clenched. Her soft palm landed on the side of his narrow cheek, confused her eyebrows drew together. “Why? Why you know the consequences, my son.”
   “It’s just one wolf!” Viktor snapped, surfacing a growl and taking a step back. “I don’t see the harm in killing the animal, and besides those beasts killed Father!” He breathed, taking only a moment. “And you,” his teeth grit. “You have killed many in your time Witch!” His words stung like venom and thorns scraped at his throat, heating quickly. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his eyes wide and mouth parted in the slightest.
   “Do not mention your Father! He was a great man who fought for you.” She yelled. “The wolves kill to live another day, that is life, my child. They do not wish for death lay in their path, they do not choose where they roam. Your Father gave his life for you.”
   “He was no more than a coward.” Fought Viktor. “The Wolves thrived from him!” He grew tall. “They could smell the fear that radiated, the blood that raced through his veins.” His words were nothing more than cold as he growled in anger and raged his voice.
   She weakened and crumbled to her knees with streams of tears down her coral pink cheeks. Her head trailed to the floor in pain and anguish, a moment passed she rose her head and her eyes to meet Viktor’s gaze, he tightened his mouth and shut his blue eyes. The room fell into a pit of silence, it consumed everything. It was peaceful again, no one spoke, no words could hurt, sting nor more words could become regrets but like all good things, it came to an end.
   “Go ahead and speak what lays on your mind child, you will become nothing but a killer yourself. Like the wolf, you thrive for the blood you bleed and the pain you cause.” Her voice was jagged and raspy, her words sharp.  “You are like the beast itself, controlled by the light you shadow into darkness. You have grown such hatred for the animal you do not realize you have become just like it, you all have consumed by your own fears.” Her eyes shined the blackest color of the feathers of a crow. She rose from the cold, hard floor and her voice traveled far.
   “You!” She cried out, Clayton flinched fearful of the Witch’s words, her eyes tangled. He knew Alison to be an old Salem Witch, but it never dawned on him. “You all have had a part to play in the wolf’s life taken meaninglessly, you all have broken the ancient law that has stood for hundreds of years.” Her tone was bitter like ice, like the sheer winds that twist and dance outside through the Village and tall, stretching pines.
   “You all will pay the price, you will become the sons of darkness itself, ruled by the moon. A beast so grim and dark the wolf shall look no more than a dog to you!"
   A ridged pain surrounded their bodies in a wave of torment and suffer, they collapsed to the ground with their hands to cover their ears, a sound of knives shredded the air. “You all shall carry the darkest secrets, the heaviest burdens as you watch the ones who love you fade as you will never perish. You can’t escape the fate that awaits you for I have seen it, a fate cold and meant to wonder the lands for eternity.” She riled a note of hatred in her once mellow voice. “You will cry like the wolf howls and feel they're suffering.” A yowl of pain bellows out in wails, the four men whom once stood high were begging on their knees, but the pain only increased.
  The Witch’s voice grew to a mumbling of chants and foreign words. Their pain continued to rise, it stung and twinge, they began to wince in a shroud of terror, their hands felt as if knives impelled them, their spines as you twisted and contorted them in many ways, their eyes flickering with brilliant canary yellows and golden flames in a range of color. Their teeth were like venom in their mouths, their ears rang to the slightest of sound in near silence, it was deafening.
   The pain had given way, they seized on the ground in recovery, gasping for a fresh breath with an arched back. They had the spirit of a beast and the looks of a monster. Fangs protruded from their jaws and their hands carry sharp, dagger-like claws at their fingertips.
   “What did you do to us!” A panged cry rang out trembling. It was Viktor who spoke, lifting himself off the cold floor with his weakened arms, eyes wondering over to Alric who reached his ribcage and winced.
    Clayton stood in attempted but slid back to the floor, it was no use. The Witch loomed and stood high above them all, her words were bare. “You are the children of darkness, you will cry like the wolf howls.” She told grimly, “You shall kill, or be killed
    Just then, two bodies burst in through the backdoor entrance with their hands grasped tightly on the doorframe frantically and a voice called from behind Alison's shoulder. "Mother there's a herd of townspeople-"  The voice trailed off by the grim image on the floor. "Viktor!" The voice cried, it was Henrik panicking, Jesper right behind him.
    "Brother! Brother are you alright?" He slid across to kneel at Victor's side, his hand feeling the pulse that barely gave a thud and stroking his face. "Brother," He gasped trying for a breath of air with wide eyes."Who did this to you, what happened?"
    Another voice spoke weakened and scraggly. "That's alright, I'm okay." It coughed. "We're not dying over here." Clayton groaned with a pool of blood in his mouth.
    Viktor rolled over on his aching back and lied his hand across his stomach, saliva running from his mouth and, like Clayton's his teeth were stained with the thick, crimson fluid. He would usually laugh at the pain Clayton constantly nagged about, but it wasn't funny.
    Jesper ran to aid Alric and Clayton shocked. Henrik rests his large hand under Viktor's head in a poor attempt to contort him.
    "The Witch," Viktor gurgled through the blood he spit from his mouth.
    It was a minute that stretched on forever without time till multiple yowls surfaced from outside, a large group of townsfolk marched outside the doorstep, riled and angry. "Open the door sorcerer!" One cried, then another. "We know your in there! You'll pay for what you've caused!
    "Come on," Henrik whispered, he was shaking more than the dying men on that lay on the floor.
    Henrik helped Viktor to his feet, wobbly and unbalanced he just fell halfway to the ground again, Henrik to hold him. Jesper did the same, Clayton leaned against a wall with his head thrown back and Alric steadied himself on Jesper. They hadn't noticed Alison had fled from the mad crowd of men and women impatiently outside the front door.
    "We need to hurry and get them out of here," Henrik told to Jesper.
    "I agree," Alric chuckled painfully standing faintly, stratning the garments that hugged his side.
    "Let's do it," Replied Jesper supported Clayton around his arm and swaying to the exit.
    "Come on brother, you must stand." Henrik pushed and lifted Viktor upward to his feet. Viktor's head was dizzy and spun in an array of blotchy colors. He squirmed on his feet and stumbled heavy footed to the back door, it swung open and revealed the bitter winter that lays ahead.
    The hollow that Village rested in was large and bare with few straying trees and untouched snow blanketing the surface nearly a foot deep, the forest enclosing the right side--an exquisite picture it was to the eyes.
    They shuttered in the icy wind that broke into their thick hide coats, they pushed against the rough winds looking downward at their snow-encased boots.
     The burning crowed angered and rioted, their glinting torches that flicker with dazzling and radiant colors unnatural to the human eye.
    Henrik and Viktor struggle to a small grove of bushes and trees. Clayton, Jesper and Alric follow closely, recovering from the knock on death's door.
    The  enraged people torched the house in the distant--Their house, their home. Flames lit and burned brilliantly, a thick veil of black smog bellowed in a puff and disperced through the night.
    Flames glint in their gazes, all hope felt lost and memories fades with the ashes and embers. A man sunk from out of the grim shadows, he watched the flames. He was a character of madness and crazed, hia hair was knotted and his expression was wild.
    "You!" He madly told as the men scramble backwards in fear. They saw the object gripped in his hand--a knife, carved from that of an old deer bone, with detailed craftsmen ship and fine things.
    "You're a scorer! You follow the devil-- his right-hand man!" His words were sharp and mumbled.
    Henrik shieldes Viktor from the man who went crazy, fear racing through their veins. Jeaper crowded around close to Henrik and Viktor regained his steadiness.
    "We want no trouble." Henrik told softly like the gentleman he was with outstretched arms in a way that signaled 'stay away from me you crazed freak'.
    "You--You all will pay for what you've done!" He hissed and foamed. His mind was rabid. "You will die!"
    Viktor slings his brother from harms way and throws himself at the hurling man heading dead towards him, slamming his light body easily in the deep snow. The rabid man quickly jumped to his feet and ramed at Viktor, Viktor grabbed his shoulders and tussled paimfully, the mans body jaring into Henrik, falling against a tree to support himself Henrik stiffened, the sound like someone biting an apple muffled every tone of nature--death.
    The hit was fatal to the crazed man when his head banged against the umber frost-bitten tree.
    Henrik drew in a weak breath before falling in the snow. Viktor wailed in terror and saddness plunging to the ground at his brothers side. "Brother, listen to me." His voice was shaking and his hands were far from steady, "Hey, hey." Viktor scanned Henrik's cooling body where his wound was, it peirced his stomach, the insertion was minor but proved to be a deadly sentence.
    "Brother stay with me!" He wept through bared teeth and silver-moonlit tears slid heavily down his red cheeks.
    Henrik's frozen, blue hands lifted weakly as they grasped Viktor's and pulled them to his pang filled expression. Jesper fell to the ground in sympathy and cried with his older brother.  "Let me go--" Henrik struggled, swallowing as gazing into Viktor's ocean blue gleam. "Brother, I will see you soon enough." He smiles while a wave of pain flourished.
    Viktor hushed him, his words fell soft on Henrik's ears. "Hush, brother. Save your strength." His mouth tightened. "You will be fine,"
    Henrik was young--the youngest of all of them, death was cruel and his time had come to move forward. Henrik drew in one more straying breath before he lays motionless in the snow and his rested hands fell out of Viktor grasp. Viktor bawled and yelled in the air, his voice carried far to the heavens.
    Jesper bent down over his knees and rests his head on his dead brothers shoulders and silently weeped tears of saddness and grief. Alric and Clayton were brought down by the sorrowful thought of Henrik's motionless figure in the cold and ice. His eyes were absent, the once lively and vivid earthy tones of his viberent gaze were lost, now they were like the glint in a moonlit glass, fogged and glossy.
   Agonizing time had passed, the towns rage resumed to its normal state and subsided, but nothing was near to normal anymore, things had changed--alot. The different was between the Sun and the Moon.
    At this time near the early stages of dawn they burried Henrik's soulless body beneath a tree that stood tall and wide--beautiful. Henrik and Viktor shared fond memories of it for it was one they had planted when they were children in an untimely spring, too young to remember their earlier days.
    All five men loomed above the shallow grave was dug wide and deep, then filled with the brown clay that lays beneath the snowy cover. There was nothing anyone could say, it was heartache and an eternal pain, one that would last till the end of time itself.
    "We had been given a light to show our way through the darkness ahead of us." The words were sad and tone over filled with the pangs of grief. "But now we only see the dark sides of things. Henrik was that light that guides us through the darken days and rough times. May he rest in peace," Viktor's voice was the one that the words belonged to, filled with a dead silence he lays a single living rose across the barren snow-covered slope and all men parted ways.