• It was a cold night, and colder was her heart. She stood tall under the moonlight howling in wicked resolution. Throats will be torn tonight, claws will meet skin, and blood will flow in rivers. She looks back at her pack, they all have bright eyes and brighter fangs, shining wickedly by the moonlight. They are all yearning for the feast to come. No need to refrain their hunger, no more hiding or pretending to be something else. It was their night, the wild hunt. She smiled fiercely and turning her back at them she led them down the mountain where the village was still sleeping.

    It was a cold night but they were warm inside their cottage, the children were already sleeping and the parents were getting ready to go to bed as well. Tomorrow would be the regional holiday and many people would come to the village fair. The old man was now examining his handy work, all were expertly crafted toys. He looked at his beloved wife, she was standing in front of the window staring at the full moon. It was all very quiet outside but she seemed nervous. Just then, a chilling howl broke the calmness, the man dropped the doll he was carving and the woman covered her mouth in horrified awareness of impending doom. The wolves were coming.