Behind me, the door opens. As the young Pitwick sticks his head around the corner, I turn to face him, Slayer sliding easily out of his scabbard. Obviously, being chased by a ghostly wolf was not enough warning for this youngster. Before I can act, Truely screams and rushes past me. With a sudden look of terror, young Pitwick takes off like a bat out of hell. It is not long before Truely returns, her face smiling and a chuckle in her throat. She does not look at me, but I know she did not harm the youth, despite her ferocious attack. Perhaps the next time he would listen to a warning. As Truely turns to tend her patient and the Wolf watches, I settle myself against some crates. I close my eyes and allow myself to slide into a warrior's rest. My senses will remain fully alert while I rest my body and mind. It is not long before I find myself drifting in that quiet realm between waking and sleeping. The chill in the air creeps and clings to everything in the small room. The coldness slips a trigger and my mind drifts to another age: an age of almost constant cold and giant creatures and men fighting to survive in a dangerous world. I am young and the strongest of my people. I can single-handedly bring down the great deer, who stands taller than two men and whose mighty antlers are as wide as it is high. This day, I hunt and kill a great two-horned beast. We call him the Angry One, for he is noted for his evil temper and blind rages. When I drag his great carcass to the camp, the people praise me for my skills. As is our custom, I share my kills with all in the village. The morning after my hunt, I wake to an ominous premonition. I step out into the crisp morning air, clad only in my breech cloth. Steam rises from my warm body as I sniff the air. There is a strange odor wafting on the breeze. It is one I recognize, but do not know. It is the smell of a man, many men. They are not of my people, for I know all their scents. These are strangers, invaders in our lands. As I raise my voice in the alarm, the strangers burst out of the trees, shouting and yelling as they charge us. There is no time before the attackers are in the village, killing all they see. I feel a great anger come over me. I rush the enemy, barehanded, and I grab the first man, wresting his stone-headed spear from his grasp and thrusting it through his body. Spinning, I sight and cast the spear in one, smooth movement, skewering another of the foe. A sharp pain sears my mind as one of the enemy thrusts his spear into my back. I turn, jerking the spear from his hands and grasp him by his throat with one hand. I lift him clear of the ground and shake him as the mighty lion shakes a small deer. Bones snap beneath my crushing grip. I cast the dead body aside and pull the spear from my back. More of our hunter-warriors spill out of their huts, weapons in hand and the battle becomes fiercer. Our women and children, too, take a hand in the battle, for Death comes to all who stand by idle. More of the enemy begin to fall, wounded and dying. Through all, I stride, swinging a stout club of fire wood. Heads and bones crack and splinter under my mighty blows. Spears score me many times. The last spear thrusts deep into my chest. I feel it pierce my heart as I crush the skull of the man who kills me. Before I fall, I feel a strangeness come over me. My body becomes as another, transforming into ... what? I do not know. I do know, though, that within moments, I tower even more over the field of battle than before and I open my mouth to scream my defiance. I am surprised, shocked to hear a roar, such as I have heard only a great beast make, come from my throat. All in my village, friend and foe alike, fall back from me, horror and fear staring at me from their eyes. My eyes drop towards the ground and I see, stretching out, great paws tipped with mighty claws. I have seen such paws before now. The great bear of the caves has such powerful paws - and, now I remember the sound of his great roar and I can hear it echo back to me. Again I open my mouth and again a great roar of rage and challenge rings out. The enemy warriors who still live break and run for the trees, dropping their weapons as they run. The people of my village remain, terrified, but reluctant to leave their belongings. The danger gone, I feel a great weariness come upon me. I fall to my hands and knees. Again, I feel the change coming over me. As my paws become hands, I grasp the spear protruding from my chest and pull it free. One last, mighty scream, and I pass out.