The land was barren and dead, nothing but the rocks and the cruel howling winds. But the land was not empty, something *lived* here. Something who's claws could gouge deep wounds into the stones and leave them in their silent, bloodless agony. But the stones refused to speak of this thing........they were frightened so.
It padded silently upon midnight paws dipped in blood. Muscles rippled beneath a cloak of night. And death followed in its foosteps.....for it dared not walk before it.
It had a name.
He hunts the shadows for those who have gone astray.
It may be that not all who wander are lost, but not all who are lost ever live see the light again.
October 1, 2001