A/N: This chapter is going to be a LOT darker, and Angua is aged 14, as is Wolfgang. The other two Andrei and Elsa are not initiated because they are yennorks.

10 years further on (14 years from birth)

The interceding years past without much noteworthy incident in the Von Uberwald household, so therefore shall not be chronicled here, but there is one event should be looked at in retrospect.

The man is running, running from the terrors that keep up with him easily as he scrabbles up the scree slope, razor sharp stones and unpredictable patches of ice adding to his woes. His name was Piotr Ivanovich, and he was 26, unmarried but with a girl for whom he had what the Quirmian's called une petite tendresse. She would be the one who sobbed over his tattered and mauled remains, called on the Gods for vengeance on his killers. And they heard, and though they granted her prayer, they waited, to see what the killers would become before they granted the distraught girls plea for vengeance, so as to choose the most appropriate punishment. One met a grisly end many years later, and the other, the one who had hung back at first, only attacking when she sensed that she couldn't afford not to, spent her whole life feeling guilty for what she had done that cold night. This latter punishment the God's thought apt, as she had played a comparatively lesser part.

However, back to the narrative. Piotr wore the tattered remains of old but good clothes, ones that had kept out the cold for many nights, but had been torn to shreds by the fangs of the were wolves.

None of this mattered to the werewolves. To them, he is just the Prey, to be hunted and eaten. Such is the law of the wild. The two young wolves, running with the pack for the first time that night were exhilarated by the smells, the speed, and above all The Chase. In every dog or dog like creature, there is an inherent habit of chasing anything that runs away.

The Alpha male snarls with impatience and prepares to put on the final spurt to take the prey when the Alpha female snarls at him, reminding him the young ones are to be blooded. The Alpha male howls, summoning the two pups to the head of the pack.

Delphine Angua and Wolfgang are to be blooded this night. Slobbering with excitement, two smaller wolves race to the front of the pack, having easily kept up thus far. The whole pack takes up the next howl, telling the young ones to put an end to the prey, the fool who lost the Game, which he had played to earn some money with which to start a business and set up a home so he could ask for his beloved's hand in marriage. Alas it was not to be as Wolfgang surged forward, Angua close behind.

As she chased down the human with her brother, who she deferred to, accepting his right to the first blood, she felt doubts. As was tradition, she had met Piotr before the Game was played. She and Wolfgang had stayed in wolf form so as not to alarm the man. When he greeted the pack solemnly and politely, he came round and greeted them all in person. When he came to Wolfgang and Angua, Wolfgang had snapped not-very-playfully at him. As Piotr darted backwards, Angua had buffeted her brother knocking him over. Piotr had smiled gratefully at her, his kind eyes twinkling. She had wagged her tail.

She had met him several times before when he came up to the castle to take orders (for he was an aspiring carpenter and a woodcutter, and were wolves love a good fire to curl up in front of) from the Baron and to negotiate a round of the Game. He had always brought up little wooden toys for the Von Uberwald children, all four of them (and had quickly learned to tell them apart), as a courtesy which the Baron approved of as did the Baroness in her own cold and aloof manner. Despite their occasional tendency to snack on the local population, Werewolves like noble families everywhere had a tradition of noblesse oblige.

This man who had only ever been kind to her and now she would have to kill him. She tried to hang back, but her mother's angry howl spurred her on. The price of failure was unspeakable and unendurable.

Wolfgang had already brought him down and was tearing at his hands which were held up in a final desperate plea for mercy, when none was forthcoming. The wolf in Angua took over as she leapt at Piotr with well simulated relish, not stopping even when a flailing foot connected with her ribs. She spotted an opening and leapt for the jugular, ripping his throat out with ease. As his lifeblood was spilling out, his last expression as he looked into Angua's eyes was one of betrayal. She would take that expression to her grave, the image of an innocent young man staring up at her sadly and reproachfully while his lifeblood turned the snow an ominous crimson. The wolf part of her howled to the heavens, proclaiming her triumph, while deep inside, the girl part of her wept, knowing she had just killed someone who had shown her only kindness.

The rest of the pack surrounded her and began to feed on the man's corpse. Afterwards they congratulated her on the kill, because of its clean execution. Wolfgang was resentful as he gained fewer congratulations, but was cheered by the chance to finally taste man flesh, known circumspectly as long pork on other parts of the disc. Angua did not feed, she would not, despite grievous temptation. She made herself a vow. This was it: If she could possibly avoid it, she would not kill any sentient creature ever again(1). Wolfgang by contrast, intended to kill as much as possible, because he could and it was fun. Both followed their intentions to the letter in later life.

(1) Chickens are NOT sentient. Or are they... "Werk!"