(Lysander's first appearance like Paris was in 'Unleash the Night'. I know I really should finish Paris's story but this one just keeps bugging at me real bad. So I thought I better write it in case I forget some of the ideas. R and R my people. Thnx!)

1817 - the last time Lysander fought the Arcadians

He prowled through the dense wilds of the Orient jungles, it was a thick mix of dark and light colours, of shadows and sun, of smells and tastes sharp and overwhelming to the acute senses of the tiger. Bright as he was he blended with his surroundings, slipping easily from one space to another and all the time he watched, he stared, he waited. He was predator and the world was his prey. Looking through the both knarred and smooth limbs of low hanging branches Lysander waited several minutes, a fundamental rule of a tigers life was patience. Without it death should come swiftly to those trying to survive in the jungle. A dragon may have fire and flight, a bear its size and strength, the wolves its agility, the hawks their keen eyesight, the jackals their cunning minds, but none could come close to the patience of a tiger. It required physical and mental discipline, waiting out your prey, waiting without becoming panicked or nervous for the very moment when all can be yours.

Nothing approached the secluded pond that were surrounded by sweet almost sickly smelling flowers, Lysander loped to the pond and instead of diving as usual, for he loved the water, he let it engulf him slowly, he growled when the fresh water soaked his torn shoulder. The water surrounding him turned a little pink but was mostly hidden under the reflecting of so much green around him and in the water itself.

A scent reached him, made him still. Made him lower. Made him wait. Backing up so only his eyes, ears and nose showed above the lazily moving surface, from between two huge pink water lilies he became so unmoving the water once again turned to glass.

He growled. Arcadian!

Out of the dark jade of the jungle a human raced into the sunlight, she was confused and very frightened, wringing her small hands and clutching at a dress that was more like a brown grey sack with a ragged slashed hem. Her long black hair was mussed and dirty like her face, her hands and feet looked cut and sore, her bottom lip trembled as her wide brown eyes scanned for something. Lysander knew the she was a very young human, still a child, no more then ten years, something behind her, perhaps the 'rabit!' of a frog made her jump violently and she scrabbled for the rocks. The pond lay in a valley of sorts and she nigh on threw herself over the edge to get away from the noise, she crawled the ponds edge and pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Rocking backwards and forwards she wept as only a child can weep, with harsh, racking sobs that shortens the breath and leaves you unable to speak.

Lysander eased from the pond and stalked her stealthily, he was standing beside her little, weak body and she didn't even know it, suddenly the girls tears quietened and she put her head down and covered it with her arms, and when she spoke it was in a little stuffy voice a curious side-effect of crying in humans, her voice strained to be heard.

"Just do it, I can't run anymore!"

Lysander cocked his furry head then flashed into his human self, dressed in only in white linen pants he crossed his legs and sat beside her.

"Why were you running?" he asked his voice naturally gravely as though he had been drinking whiskey for hours straight.

"I was trying to find the village, then I might be able to find someone to help me." her voice became a whisper, "the Katagaria killed my parents."


"uh hmm."

"They probably deserved it," Lysander said without thought. He looked at the child expecting her to cry, she didn't. She didn't even look angry, she looked drained, all the fight had been taken out of her.

"No, I don't think they did. My mitera and my baap were very kind to me."

"You're their daughter did you expect them to be anything else."

She shrugged. "I didn't do anything, neither did Jin." She wiped away a silent tear and Lysander felt his heart twinge a bit.

"How old are you and Jin?"

"I'm ten and Jin is seven."

"Where is Jin?"

She gave him a look that even in her depressed and hurt state looked sarcastic and condescending, with horror Lysander realised Jin, the seven year old Arcadian boy was dead. It shouldn't bother him, not when members of his own family that were just as young had been slaughtered, but it might have been the blood he noticed drying into her dress that made him feel slightly sick.

"Why do you call your mother mitera and your father baap?"

"My father is an Indian and my mother is Greek." She answered shortly, he understood anyway. Baap was Hindi for papa. He looked at her then, he could see then she would have to be mixed. Her skin was far too light to pass for an Indian, in fact she looked Spanish or perhaps that dark gypsy look. Only her coal black hair and brown eyes could relate her to her father's heritage. Lysander sighed.

"Are you looking for help from humans?"

She nodded, her eyes were drooping and he shook her by the shoulder, she jerked awake.

"If I were you, little tiger, I'd be cautious. You look white so the natives may not help you and the whites will question what you are so tell them your Mediterranean and they might help you. Sleep only as much as you have to to keep you going and stay away from the plants that the deer leave alone. Water hides your scent so try to sleep near it but always hide yourself effectively, use the colours of the forest to camouflage yourself. And above all be patient. Do not walk through the night to get at the village by sunrise, it will be your death. Do not run for the meat before the others get it until you know the animal you fight is one you can win. Understand me?"

She nodded and stumbled up.

"I should go now?"

"What would waiting around achieve?"

The little girl looked down at where she had been sitting, "a sore bottom?"

Lysander smiled and shook his head before he to got to his feet. A part of him wanted to help her out and flash her to the village, but he had his own things to do. Besides it was better to learn it young that you have to survive the hard way then later, this way if she survives she'll only have herself to thank for it. Besides he had no business helping out little mongrel Arcadians, she would grow up one day to be everything he despised, everything he vowed to kill. She was everything he despised and the only thing stopping him from harming her was that he refused to kill a child, he would not become what he hunted. A human.

"Goodbye, tiger man," she said.

"Goodbye, err …"

She laughed, "Nyssa." She pronounced it Nee-Sa.

"Goodbye Nyssa."

Lysander watched her small body walk as fast as her short legs could carry her out of sight, she would probably die, he knew that, but he would not help her. She was Arcadian, she was everything he was against, he wrote his code in her peoples blood, one little girl could not change that.