- The Eastern Shore of Pleasure Island -
The werewolf community had taken heavy losses in extinguishing the armed forces within the city. But the group had taken control of the rest of the humans on the island, and this had swelled their numbers to five times what they originally had. Approximately 30,000 werewolve now lived on the island, but even with this many, they could not achieve the Final Howl. Now a thousand or so werewolves had convened at the beach. They had been chosen to swim away from the island and "recruit" new members.
The greater spirit in the sky was pleased with the progress that his minions were making. Everything was proceeding as were his intentions.
But something had happened that He had not intended. As the werewolves began their long swim, and as a thousand others stood by and watched them swim away, a lone figure stood atop the rock walled hill that stood next to the beach. He stood their watching, dressed only in a dark cloak with a hood over his head so that none could see his face. This man stood their with a twisted staff in one hand, and watched that which was unfolding in front of him. He produced no scent, and left no trail. As the swimmers disappeared from sight, the man walked away, leaving no trace of his existence.
Terrible things, far worse than the battle that had taken place on the island, would soon take place. Should the werewolves be allowed to spread too far, the planet would have to be destroyed. That is if the planet should survive that which was about to transpire.