Hildesman rushed along the forest floor, hearing the wailing howl of the direwolf sounding once more. At his best guess, it was moving down the stream to where Hildesman had been filling the canteen. That meant it hadn't spotted him yet. Poor reassurance, but better than no reassurance.

As he reached the clearing and flung his way through the branches of the willow tree, he found Brother Davvis leaning over the pilot's chair, manipulating one of the many control levers. The young engineer looked up at the sound of Hildesman's hurried entrance.

"Direwolf," Hildesman explained. "Can we fly?"

Brother Davvis fell backwards out of the pilot's compartment, then hurried to start dragging the machine out into the open. Hildesman took that as a yes and moved to lift the other half.

"It'll take me at least three minutes to get us in the air. The engine--" Brother Davvis started to say. Hildesman cut him off.

"Too long. Wolf is on my trail already. You have a weapon?"

In answer, Brother Davvis fitted a leather gauntlet onto one hand and tightened the straps. Tessenium energy began to crackle. A bolter-glove. Hildesman had only seen them in use on the training field, but he estimated the destructive power was more than equal to his own traditional bolter-pistol. Provided the wearer had remembered to charge up his tattoos. As if reading Hildesman's thoughts, Brother Davvis downed a pellet of some type. A few seconds later, a surge of Tessenium-yellow light emitted from the tattoos that weren't covered up by the glove.

"Good. In the tree." Hildesman made a stirrup with his hands and boosted the other man into the lower branches of the willow. "You'll want to get at least fifteen feet up if you can. If you have a clear shot, take it."

While Brother Davvis climbed to find a good position, Hildesman crouched behind the machine, bolter in one hand and ears open for the sounds of the direwolf's approach. With his other hand, and looking as little as possible, he opened the storage hatch and groped within for the case containing the new steambow cartridges.

Before he found them, the screech of the wolf sounded again. But not from the direction of the stream. From the south of the camp, this time. Dammit, thought Hildesman, slinking around the machine to keep it between him and the sound of the beast. It must have smelled the skimmer.

Before Hildesman could settle under cover again, the beast strode through the leafy drape of the willow tree.

A normal direwolf was small, by the standards of direbeasts. Not as small as a diremink, surely, but unlike most forms, it didn't seem like a giant version of its cousins. In fact, it scarcely seemed wolf-like at all. Its legs were elongated, stilt-like. Each had two extra joints not seen on normal canines, and ended not in a paw but rather in a sort of flower-like pod, the claws splaying in all directions rather than just forward. The body was thin and long, like the creature was starving, but Hildesman knew from hard-won experience that it was far from weak. The tail, like the legs, was lengthened to an improbable degree, and it seemed like it had been broken in several places, little jagged bends and elbows. The head was the only part that gave its origins away. Like the body, it was thin and long, and the creature's ears had a second set of ears growing inside them, which seemed to serve no purpose. But the muzzle, though stouter than typical for a wolf, was unmistakably wolf-like.

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The specimen that entered the camp was the right size to match the footprints Hildesman had found previously. He remained as calm as he could as he found the stock of his steambow and slowly drew it out. The wolflike head of the beast turned back and forth, nostrils flaring as it tested the air in the clearing. Unsettlingly, it turned to look into the tree, seeming almost like a man squinting to read a distant signpost. Then, with the uncanny awareness and certainty common to its kind, it turned to make eye contact with Hildesman himself.

A beam of yellow-white light lanced out of the tree, about ten feet above HIldesman's head. The direwolf danced backwards, elegant despite its gangled appearance. The shot was wide, regardless, but the distraction gave Hildesman enough time to slide a capsule into the steambow and lever it into a ready position. He pointed with his own bolter and fired a follow-up to Brother Davvis's attack. Direwolves were smart enough to find easier prey, normally. Perhaps they'd be able to frighten it off long enough to get in the air.

"Hmm." Sounded an unfamiliar voice in Hildesman's ear. "Not really a passing mark. I'd much rather you hunt it and kill it"

"What?!" Hildesman called out. "Who's there?" His holstered his bolter and swung the steambow, newly modified and with specialized ammunition, to a ready position against his shoulder. The wolf would be circling the willow, choosing where to enter, assuming it hadn't given up and gone in search of something less dangerous. Probably trying to avoid any further shots from Brother Davvis. Hildesman gauged where the Brother's shot had come from before, then turned to face a point slightly to the right of where a body would be protected from further bolter-glove fire. He focused, keeping his eyes on the actual point where he thought the wolf would emerge, but looking for all that he was worth like he had guessed wrong.

The strange voice didn't answer him. There would be time for that later, though. First, Hildesman needed to deal with the very dangerous predator threatening his life.

"You know," The voice spoke up again. "If I were my sister, I'd be offering you a way out of this situation right now."

Hildesman shook his head, trying to clear the delusion from his mind. Maybe this was a side effect of the stimulant chew. He'd heard that strange things happened to people who stayed up for too long. Usually it took a lot longer than he'd been up, but the formula was new.

"But that would defeat the purpose. I wanted to see how you handle this situation to decide whether it's worth offering you the way out in the first place."

Hildesman ignored it. The wolf emerged from the forest just to the left of where Hildesman was pointing. With a quick jerk, he turned the steambow's barrel to point at the creature, already squeezing the trigger. There was a slight tingle in the air around the bow and then Hildesman was nearly flung backwards, even despite his stabilizing kneel. The bow let out a crack of sound, nearly as loud as a black-powder rifle, and a portion of the wolf's left foreleg fell to the ground. Not the cleanest shot, but Hildesman was still reeling from the raw force the new bow had. His shoulder screeched pain, and he briefly worried that he had dislocated it, until he found it was still fully functional. Just very sore.

The direwolf snarled in anger and vanished once more into the forest. A trail of too-thick red blood followed it, oozing at a slow rate from the stump where its left leg suddenly ended.

"Very good. But I want to see you chase it. Kill it. Prove yourself." The mystery voice spoke in Hildesman's ear. "Blood calls to blood, and stone begins to fall. Show me you're worthy, Aaron Hildesman. Do it, and I'll make you a champion."

Hildesman froze. Champion? And the voice knew his name. His hallucination was becoming rapidly uncomfortably familiar.