It took a week of preparing ourselves for phase two before phase one's execution. It was a lot of work, but after hours of practice and going over the plan at least two dozen times, we were finally ready.

I'll be the first to admit that I was a bit skeptical of Flare's plan at first. It had seemed almost too easy. It occurs to me that I should give my Beta more credit.

Within hours of our preparation being complete, the headmistress lied dead in the courtyard, ripped to shreds in the night by a monster. The next morning the staff of the orphanage were in a frenzy.

So far so good. With the plan in phase two, all we had to do now was get the girl into the woods.

Sam was the most valuable participant in phase two. He had spent hours a day listening to one of the children who lived in the orphanage, training himself to copy the young boy's voice.

With this skill and the knowledge of the woman's last name, he had all that we needed to get the woman into the woods.

Sam was confident that his strategy would work (he'd even made a bet with Dean, so he was pretty committed), though if it didn't we could always try again.

###

I sighed, carefully closing the door closed behind myself. Any noise at this hour would wake everyone within a fifteen-foot radius up. It was three in the morning, the hour for my nighttime rounds.

After checking on all of the children on the second story (thankfully, all were accounted for), I soundlessly make my way down the grand staircase, shivering at the unusual cold.

I frown, looking around the foyer. A soft breeze wafts through the room, and my eyes can just make out the silhouette of fluttering curtains.

"Oh," I softly exclaim, tip-toeing over to the open window 'who left this open?' I ask myself in my mind, carefully placing my dim lantern onto the floor, and beginning to shut the window.

As I do, I catch faint words on the wind, and I frown, leaning my head out of the open window and looking around.

"Miss Aarin?" The voice called, the words small and stained with fear.

I gasp. It couldn't be- "Michal?" I call into the night.

"Miss Aarin!" the voice, undoubtedly Michal William's, shouts desperately.

"Oh no," I hurry to the door, quickly unlocking it, and rushing in the direction of the voice. I can't see very well in the moon-lit clearing, but my lantern wouldn't have made much of a difference.

'Between the man-eater and the cold, there is no way that a six-year-old boy will survive the night. The poor child! How did he even get outside? Through the window?' I think frantically, cringing at the cool, wet grass brushing against my bare feet.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

"Michal!" I shout, furrowing my brow. What was such a young boy doing outside at three in the morning? "Where are you, Michal?" I call, holding my hands up to my mouth.

"Miss Aarin!" Michal calls, tears in his voice.

I rush into the direction of Michal's voice. It continues on like this, I'll call out and he'll call back, and then I'll run to where it had come from, worry and fear building in me the longer it went on and the deeper we disappeared into the forest.

"Michal!" I call. The voice had been so close the last time I'd heard it. It doesn't occur to me that a child's voice couldn't possibly travel two kilometres.

Unlike the last times, no voice responds to my calls.

I swallow, panting. "MICHAL!" I scream desperately, tears streaking down my face. I choke on my tears, anxiety boiling over into panic. My hand tangles in my hair as I call out for him again.

"Miss Aarin," Michal says from behind me, his voice serenely calm, far too calm.

I hesitantly turn, slowly extracting my hand from my hair.

All that I can see in the darkness are a pair of luminescent eyes, glowing bright, pupil-less green in the moonlight.

I gasp, tripping over my skirt and falling onto a rock. I yelp in pain, fear and adrenaline shooting through my veins. I scramble onto my feet, launching myself in the opposite direction of the eyes.

I am stopped in my tracks by a wall of fur and muscle. A low growl permeates the air, so loud that I can feel the vibrations in my chest.

I sob as three more pairs of eyes join the first, held so high above the ground that their owners must be at least four feet tall. I begin stuttering pleas to the beings, calls for mercy. I'm so caught up in my begging that I almost don't feel the bite. Almost.

My scream tears out of my throat, straining my already abused vocal cords to the point of burning agony, much unlike the agony in my leg, like hot acid was being injected into my bloodstream.

I try to kick the thing off of me, but all I manage to do is make it tighten it's grip on me, as one of the others pins down my free leg with its powerful paws. Another, predicting that perhaps I would try hitting them with my hands, placed a paw on each shoulder to hold me down on the uneven forest floor.

I blink up though my tears as two inky black eyes come into my line of sight, the understanding and empathy inside of them takes my breath away, and I feel the fight drain out of me, and my eyes grow heavy. A low, apologetic groan form the owner of the black eyes is the last thing I hear before I slip into the darkness.

###

I swish my tail with a considerate hum. "How are we going to get her home?" I inquire.

Flare tsks, looking down at the unconscious woman. "Good question,"