Note: This chapter has been posted over the original prologue. If you see comments that don't relate to this chapter's content, that's why. All of these comments have been very much appreciated, and suggestions noted, even if the prologue is no longer a part of this book.

If you wish to read it, you can find this prologue in the first alcove of The Wolf Cave.

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It wasn't often Angel was right. Of all the times she and Dawn had verbally sparred, she could recall only one - or maybe two - occurances when she had turned out to be right. Even if Dawn won the argument anyway.

Yet the pride at having proved the Mystwylf wrong was entriely overshadowed by the chilling fear that came with Briar's howl.

The sound hadn't yet cut out when they started emerging from the trees. Slices of darkness, armed with fangs that glinted silver in the ever-increasing light.

There had to be at least a dozen. Or maybe their fearsome nature was making them seem to double in number.

At least in the prison cave, they had already been enclosed in a place of fear. But here, out in the familiar daylit forest, the Shadewylves felt all the more fearsome.

She barely noticed the click as Briar softly closed his door, slinking away from the oncoming battle. Her anger at him could wait. Instead, her gaze drifted to Dawn as they stared at each other, both sharing the same debate. To fight, or to run.

Fiammetta made the decision before they could.

With a cry, she leapt forwards, tackling the nearest black wolf. Much to her shock, they squirmed away from her attack, slipping out from between her claws and slinking behind another, larger Shadewylf. Their leader. Rolling to her paws, Fiammetta prowled towards him.

Thea immediately shot to flank her, and Angel bounded over to do the same. Somewhere behind, Dawn would be falling into her best hunter's crouch, but Angel knew the uncertainty she must be feeling. Wise as she was, the Mystwylf wasn't a fighter.

Together, they glared up at their opposition. Angel tried not to flinch at the sight of his blood-red eyes, all too familiar.

"Ah, the mighty Twilytra," he greeted them, bright eyes dancing with red sparks. "So nice to finally meet you." Gaze drifting to Angel, he chuckled. "Though we've already met."

"And you'll pay for it," she growled back, flashing her fangs. The memory of Katana's bloodied form was enough to bring fury surging to the surface. Not letting her eyes flick to the other wolves closing in, she focused her glare on his confidently tilting snout.

"How do you know about us?" Thea added, a similar emotion lacing her words.

"You haven't noticed?" He laughed again. "It seems our spies are as skillful as ever."

Angel's fur prickled, sensing the advancing wolves at either side. The empty space at their backs was a futile escape route - any one of these wolves would be upon her before she could even fully turn in the opposite direction. The same was true of the sky. One flick of her wing, and they'd pounce.

But she only shook her head and hardened her gaze, fixing the red-eyed Shadewylf with a ferocious glare. The fear could be shoved away, deep down, where no wolf would ever see it - or, more to the point, take advantage of it.

"Oh, shut it," Fiammetta snapped. "You have no spies but Briar." Tiny flames were beginning to break through her bronze fur, bursting out in sparks of amber and orange and glowing with heated anger. She took a step forward and held her snout up, not even a claw's length from the Shadewylf's nose. "Now get out of here before I shred your throat to nothing."

A flicker of uncertainty crossed the Shadewylf's eyes. It was gone in an instant. "I'd like to see you try, Fiammetta."

More flames piled up just behind her ears, morphing the sparks into a vibrant mane. Angel pulled her wings in as the heat washed over her.

"If you know so much about us," Fiammetta said, "shouldn't we get to know a little about you?"

Angel didn't expect him to answer. She had always thought that Shadewylves enjoyed being mysterious. But instead of ambiguity, the red-eyed wolf drew his head higher, his ears standing tall and proud. "Indeed you should. It was rude of me not to begin that way. My name is Jaser, third general of the Shadewylves. The best fighter in Nefaris." His eyes glimmered.

"Sure, you tell yourself that," Fiammetta growled, raising her head and drawing her shoulders back so that she met his gaze again. She was tensing. Any moment now, Angel knew that her instincts would overtake her and the conversation would be swallowed by battle.

Fortunately, Thea's interruption allowed them a few moments more. "Nefaris as in the cave? You all still live there?" Her mocking tone made Angel smirk.

Jaser frowned. "Of course. Where else would we live?"

Shrugging, Thea chuckled. "I thought you all would have founded some only-Shadow settlement or something by now. You've had decades."

Snapping his gaze away from Fiammetta, Jaser flashed his curved fangs down at her. "Be quiet, stupid Glitterwylf. You don't understand."

"It does sound like a good idea, though," commented the black wolf beside him. "Why haven't we done that, General?"

If it was possible, Jaser's eyes glowed even brighter as he flicked his glare to his comrade. "Forget it! The cave perfectly fits our needs! Montasir saw no-"

He never finished his string of reasoning.

In the moment of distraction, Fiammetta leapt forwards, locking her claws into Jaser's side and forcing him to the ground. Her fire rippled down her forepaws and flickered across the earth, the lack of moisture allowing it to dance and weave easily. At the general's furious shout, the other Shadewylves pounced, and Angel soon found herself ducking what felt like a million strikes and slashes.

Flaring out her wings for balance, she jumped and clasped her paws around the first solid body they found. Regretting for the thousandth time her lack of battle training, she did her best to block the wolf's stabbing claws and pushed him downwards as hard as she could.

They grappled for several moments, until Angel thought to use the winds. Contentrating, she funnelled the air towards the wolf, the effort pressing tightly on her chest. As effective as the power of Aire was, she still found it a struggle to channel it. Thankfully, she managed to keep it up long enough to pin her opponent down and fumble for a grip.

She barely had a chance to breathe before more claws met her flank, scraping the skin and forcing her sideways. Twisting, she managed to yank her side away from the claws before they could dig too deep, and slashed her own weapons at her attacker. They became a writhing mass, Angel's intincts taking over as she fought to remain in the battle. Fangs snapped shut as she jolted her snout away. A shoving paw sent her stumbling backwards, but she forced the wind to rush at her back and send her flying back into the throng, her wings aiding the effort. A thrill overtook her. After all this time, she was finally getting to put her skills to the test.

The Shadewylf was beginning to fold under her strikes. She couldn't be far from victory. A smirk tugging at her snout, she pushed one final time, the wind and her own strength combining into an almighty heaving shove.

A shove that carried her straight into the claws of another wolf.

In an instant, she was snatched from her battle and carried upwards. Paws curled tight under her chest. She could feeel the wolf shuddering from the effort, but the claws pierced in such a way that pulling from the grip would result in gouges being ripped in her chest.

Just as they reached the canopy, exhaustion finally relaxed the claws enough for her to twist away with nothing but a collection of stinging scratches.

As she slipped from the wolf's grasp, she kicked out her back paw, hoping to knock them out of the sky. Her wings flared out, provided her a relatively smooth landing on a wider branch. Turning, she saw that her attacker had found the same hold in his stagger.

For the first time, she fully realised what he was.

His fur was identical to hers: decorated with pale blues and brushed with tiny patches of cloudy white. The wings fluttering at his sides were also feathered, although they were smaller, and appeared more rough and scraggy than hers. Their black colour was what struck her, though - they stuck out starkly against the paler backdrop, more suited for his nighttime Pelt than the light of day.

Digging her claws into the bark, Angel let out a low growl. "I didn't know there were traitors in the Shadewylf ranks now."

He might have flinched at that, but it could have simply been the press of a gust of wind. "There is no other choice." His voice was surprisingly clear. From his ragged appearance, she'd expected a more gutteral tone.

She shrugged. "There's plenty of choices." Lifting her wings, she drew her shoulders back, using her slight height advantage to make herself seem bigger.

"Not for me."

Was that sadness she detected? Of course not, she dismissed immediately, shaking away the sympathy. This Airewylf was nothing but a criminal who thought Shadewylves were the answer to a world he saw as broken. Dawn had mentioned that some more solitary wolves may begin to choose their sides.

With a sigh, she crouched lower, tensing her hind legs. "Well, you chose wrong."

"Did I?" The wolf took a step forward, edging along the branch, but he made no move to attack. "Or did I simply choose one of two evils?"

"Shadewylves seem pretty evil to me," she protested. All this talk was making her uncomfortable. Did enemies usually stop to have a chat before a fight?

The Airewylf ducked his head. Perhaps her offhand approach was working, for once. "You can't exactly claim you society is perfect," he countered, and finally Angel heard the growl in his tone she'd been expecting, along with a hardened lacing of bitterness. "The way you treat anyone who doesn't fit in with your ideals."

There was a part of her that wanted to agree with him. It was what she'd grown up hearing, after all. Her whole family had been treated with that common dismissal, in the same way most of the Twilytra had suffered under those put above them by circumstance. Her jaw began parting, words forming in her throat, the same ones she remembered her father muttering many a time.

But then she realised. If she agreed with him, she'd be agreeing with the villains. And as bad as their society might be, the Shadewylf ideals were far, far worse.

Instead, she revealed her fangs, releasing a snarl. That was enough talking. She needed to stop thinking and get on with fighting this traitor.

But he only smirked at her challenge. "No argument for that, huh?"

She hesitated before answering. If the pause didn't give away her true thoughts, her words certainly did. "It doesn't matter. The Shadewylves are more evil."

"And why is that?"

"They started the war." Now her father's words did emerge, but words of a different sort - words aimed at the other side. "They're killers. You're killers." Her wings twitched. "Hard-wired to fight and draw blood. They're not safe, and they never will be. Evil." She inclined her head, daring him to deny it.

His pause confirmed her victory. But before she had chance to mock his inability to challenge the truth, he sighed.

"What's your name?" he asked.

She frowned. "Angel."

He moved another step closer, but still his claws remianed settled on the branch. "Angel, what you say is the partial truth. Not the whole truth. A stereotype which many fit, but many more do not." Pausing, he stared right at her, and for the first time she fully met his eyes. They sparkled with a deep, concentrated blue.

"Think, Angel," he added. "Has the Shadewylf in your own town shown any of those attributes?" His voice faded as his gaze dropped to peer through the leaves, but his words remained, hanging in the air.

Angel's eyes widened in shock. Not only did this Airewylf's words ring eerily plausible, but he also knew of Toivo. Her gaze flicked about the sky, her heart suddenly debating with itself.

Suddenly, the Airewylf's startling blue eyes snapped back up, hardened and dark. Something different glowed in them now. Before the meaning of his look could even register with Angel, he was leaping, claws stretched out and black wings spread.

At the last second, she thought to roll to the side, flinging out her wings and curving into fight. He dived after her, her lingering shock hindering her movements enough for him to catch hold of her back leg and pull her back down. A trio of cutting wounds dug into the inside of her leg. Twisting, she loosened his grip, the stings not registering as she slashed at his chest.

They grappled like that for what seemed like forever, ducking and diving in the sky. Angel's wings beat frantically as she fought to connect her claws. More and more scrapes were etched into her chest and paws, none touching long enough to dig deep, but hissing with pain regardless. It seemed for every time her claws landed a strike, he would counter with three, each more powerful than the last.

Whatever sincerity he had seemed to hold in his words earlier had vanished, along with Angel's uncertainty. It had been a distraction, all of it.

This wolf didn't fight for peace. He fought to kill.

Angel could feel herself tiring. Exhaustion yanked at her wings and tugged at her paws, dropping them further towards the canopy with every lunge. It wouldn't be long until he brought her down. But she woudn't let the thought alone beat her. With a snarling cry, she widened her jaw and snapped her fangs into his shoulder.

Traces of blood met her tongue. If she could just bite a little deeper...

The thought was drowned out by a rippling internal scream.

Her fangs jolted backwards, drawn open by a strangled yelp as the pain clutched at her throat. As her claws slipped away from their grip in his fur, she sank downwards, dangling in the air, seconds from crashing into the trees. He struck again, and the rip seemed to shudder through her whole body, forcing another yelping cry from her throat, before he finally let go.

The leaves and branches seemed to reach out to the screaming wound, prodding it in every possible way. She scrabbled uselessly at the canopy. The pain left every part of her aching and numb, her claws unable to even begin to grip.

Colliding with the earth below felt like nothing compared to the lingering scrape of his claws. Shaking, she turned first to her right, not quite ready for the sight that would await her at the other side.

There was her wing, twitching as always, the white feathers ruffled but still intact. Healthy. The limb that allowed her beloved flight. Clenching her fangs to bite back another cry, she turned her head the other way.

A mangled mess greeted her.

A pile of bloodstained feathers, delicate bones snapped roughly. The lines his claws had taken weren't clear, but their path of destruction released Angel's witheld sob. Of all the places he could have chosen to attack. Of all the pain he could have caused her, he chose the one that made her heart ache, too.

Glancing up, she met his eyes. He was still hovering, flapping his own black wings steadily, as if to mock her. His expression was too far away to make out. Was he proud? Guilty? Had his bold words from before meant anything?

When claws interrupted her shaking thoughts, they weren't his claws.

Her movements felt sluggish as she tried desperately to push away at the slashing mass of black fur. Everything moved too slowly. All too soon, the Shadewylf's paws were pinning her down, and fangs were descending towards her throat.

The world swayed. It seemed those pointed teeth were the axis on which the world now spun on. As they grew closer, more waves of dizzy pain rippled through Angel's head. Dimly, she could feel her uninjured wing flapping against the ground, as if trying to wrench itself free.

Then the fangs vanished, and waves flowed through her vision.

No, not waves. Fur. Blue fur. Blue fur with green swathes, the fur of her rescuer.

The pressure of black paws was gone. Angel watched as Morgan slammed her attacker into the ground, pushing with a strength she'd never seen him use. The world righted itself, just slightly, enough for her to regain control.

It was just in time.

Surprise had only given Morgan a brief advantage, and within seconds the Shadewylf was breaking free of his grip and throwing them both into a writhing battle. Angel's muscles tensed. Seawylves' power lay in the rivers and streams, and in the ocean. Not here in dryness of the summer forest.

FIghting through the screaming pain still cascading through her, she forced herself upwards and flung herself at the flash of black fur. She could feel the winds at her back, adding to her strength. As draining as she knew the use of her power would feel later, she was grateful for the extra energy it brought now.

Thankfully, it seemed the Shadewylf hadn't expected her to recover so quickly, and so pinning him down was less of struggle than it might have been. Keeping him there was another matter. His squirms slowly crumbled her last wall of energy. When his thrashing tail collided with her bloodied wing, blurring her vision with pain-filled tears, she knew it was impossible.

"Morgan," she hissed, through clenched fangs. "Run."

Their eyes met for a moment. She could see the battle in his eyes, the will to fight, to fuflil his promise of protection. But she could also see fear. More deeply rooted that hers would ever be.

Right now, the way to protect him wasn't to keep him close. It was to let him give in to that fear. To let him be away from harm.

As he turned, sprinting into the safety of the forest, the winds fell away at her back. Her gaze didn't leave the vanishing blue of his form as dark paws rose up to meet her. Her strength to fight them was long gone, swallowed by the pain tearing at her insides.

When the fangs rose up again, she closed her eyes and let them take her.