That story placed man above the animals, until man's fall at Eve's hand, and linked humans to God himself, fashioned in his image. But now the black wolf was telling the girl a grave secret. That man was an animal too.

To you, Fell. Can't you feel it? Inside you, as it lies inside all the Lera. Know thyself, wolf.

And, Kar, love is not a commandment, it is a need, as real as eating.

Life is wonderful, so revel in its beauty. Be all you can be, and let go of the past. It is nothing but shadows.

Death,' whispered Tarlar, 'you do not fear it, Fell? By water, or any other way?' 'What is to fear?" answered the black wolf. 'If it is an end, then so be it. For there is no pain in that, except the pain left to the living... And if death is not an end, then what more than a wonderful journey.

Not stories told by wolf or man to frighten children, of Wolfbane and of werewolves, of grasht and goblins and of silly vampires, fables to frighten cowards with the threat of evil and of sin. But the power that lives beyond those stories, and makes them strong indeed, that lives in nightmares and in sleep. That is ribbed into the very fabric of conscious being. The power of love and hate.

Life itself is dispare, so we must make darkness our ally