"We have lost the trail, your Lordship" Juvius said, his voice trembling a bit. Juvius! His best hunter! And he had completely lost the trail. Lord Malevin was *upset*. The thief could not, must not, get away. Strong measures were called for. "Which was the lead hound?" Malevin demanded of Juvius. "Thorn." Juvius replied, wonderingly. "Bring him here." The dog was brought over to Malevin. Malevin drew his silver wizard's dagger, it flashed once in the air, then carved a huge gash in Thorn's belly in an instant. Thorn whimpered once, then was still. The men muttered to themselves, horrified but knowing it could have easily been one of them, in the mood Malevin was in. When His Lordship was upset, people tended to die. Unpleasantly. Mustering his courage, one of the trackers asked "Is the thief not getting away even as we speak, Your Lordship? Should we not continue the search?" "Since you incompetent fools have lost the trail, I must handle the affair myself," Malevin snapped, "Now silence!" And the men were totally still. Malevin took his dagger, and cleanly slit Thorn's throat. Still-warm blood pooled slowly on the ground, and Malevin watched without emotion. When a large pool had appeared, Malevin stood, and kicked the corpse into the bushes. He slowly began to chant. The mystic syllables pulsed, hanging in the air for an instant. There was not a sound to be heard in the forest. Malevin drew a small hunting-horn, carved of silver, from a fold in his cloak. He blew a single blast. And then the wolves came. First, red eyes gleamed in the underbrush. Then the wolves themselves emerged. Huge, death-black wolves, eyes like dying coals, but wolves all the same. The largest, apparently the leader, walked slowly to stand at Malevin's feet. He bent his head to lap at the pool of blood for a moment, then raised his head to stare into Malevin's eyes. The wolf's eyes were distressingly intelligent. And evil. Malevin met the wolf's gaze evenly, then removed a small piece of black fabric from a pocket. He dropped it on the ground in front of the wolf, then spoke. His voice was soft, but the men heard it clearly. "Find this man. Restrain him. Do not kill him. I will attend to that." The lead wolf sniffed the cloth once, twice. Then he flung his head moon-wards, and howled, a chilling, fearsome sound. "Now go!" spoke Malevin, and the wolves bounded off into the night, growling and baying, the thrill of the chase running in their blood. "We follow." And the hunters moved on. ***** Eft Fairweather crouched on the lowest branch of the tree, doing his best to blend into the shadows. This was made substantially easier by his only three feet of height, and his training as a thief. For Eft was a halfling, a member of the diminutive race who resembled humans, but were only half as tall. Halflings were usually comfort-loving, stay at home types, but occasionally there was one born with the urge to travel, and to seek excitement. Usually, those born with wanderlust made use of the halfling talents for stealth and nimbleness, and often made their living as a rogue. Eft was one of these, and his natural halfling talent for thievery had been increased by his apprenticeship, almost 3 years ago, to Master Ieric, that thief who had been so great. Under Master Ieric's guidance, Eft's skill had grown steadily. Then a new lord of the city came to power, one who was corrupt but powerful. Eft made the mistake of stealing from the wrong people, and the next day the city guard showed up at his door. In the ensuing confusion, Eft managed to flee, but Master Ieric was captured and thrown in prison. Hunted and alone, Eft fled the city on the next wagon train. Eft left the train in a new city, and began to slowly continue his training. But without Master Ieric's patient guidance, and wracked by his own guilt, Eft was unable to reach true greatness. He continued to live day by day, stealing just enough to survive. Finally, he had had his big break. He heard a rumor that this Lord Malevin person, some sort of reclusive mage, had recently discovered some sort of special treasure in his travels. Eft decided to go and have a look around the place. He had heard a bit about Lord Malevin, a minor noble who lived out of the city, in the middle of the forest. He had also heard others rumors about Lord Malevin. Malevin was noted for his cruelty- it was common knowledge in the city that a former servant of Malevin's who had been caught stealing was publicly tortured, and then slain by Malevin's own hand. There were other rumors, less known ones. Malevin is a demon, some said. Others said he was mad. Eft had just hoped he was rich. The operation had gone like a breeze, at first. The window had opened quietly, the guards were all circumvented, and he had successfully entered Lord Malevin's chambers. Eft had scanned the walls quickly, knowing it was only a matter of time before the Lord returned. At first all he saw were bulky statues and paintings, and an elegant two-handed sword, all much too big for an enterprising halfling to carry away. Then he had searched the drawers of Malevin's desk. One drawer was locked, but it was easy enough to pry open with a dagger. Then that alarm had gone off. The loud clanging was enough to wake the gods above, let alone alerting the guards in the nearby rooms. Eft had looked around quickly for a source of the alarm, but couldn't find one - obviously a magical ward. He had cursed himself for not thinking that a mage would have his own guardians. He had quickly grabbed the only thing in the drawer, a small box, and had ran off into the night. He ran for the forest. He could hear baying behind him, and ran faster. Now here he was. Stuck on a branch in the middle of the forest. The guards would be searching the entire forest soon. He could hear the barking of the dogs already. He realized he would have to call on other powers. ***** Eft cursed, but realized he had no other option. If he was to elude Malevin and his hounds, he would have to use it. He would have to use psi. For Eft was not only a talented thief, he was also an amateur psionicist. Psionics was the mysterious power of the mind. It was rare even in halflings, the race most noted for it. Because of its rarity, Eft had been unable to find a tutor, and so only knew a fraction of the Art. He hated to use the psi, unskilled in it as he was, but there seemed no alternative. Enough musing- necessity called. Eft focused his mind, and let the noise of men searching, and hounds baying, fade into the background. He focused tighter. His aura, like a thin line of pure gold, was clearly visible around him. He "pushed" with his mind, forcing the aura to change shape. He slowly bent it, changing it from humanoid to feline, from halfling to cat. He felt his body change as he made his aura change. He felt himself bending over, crouching on his hands or feet... or was it >paws