Time to Hunt Belchoth of the twisted fang, set her beer down and glared at the rest of the company. A feeling of isolation such as she had never known crashed in. The feelings of camaraderie with the others withered and were suddenly gone. Who were these people with her, what were these people? They were staring back, looking at their companions for reassurance but they sought none from her. She grunted, started to speak, stopped. The words slipped away. Hunger filled her mind, hunger and a need for her pack. These others weren’t companions. Their thoughts were wrong. She was outnumbered, but no, a sudden brightness from one of these strangers and again a bond was formed. A feeling of trust established. They were against these others, and it was just a matter of time before violence. Strike first, strike hard. Belchoth, though she no longer thought of herself as having a name, she just was, acted. She and the other were pack and instinctively knew the other’s emotion. She sprung forward, smashing a claw to one side, gouging the other’s companion but her target was the largest beast. It made the mistake of attempting to rise but she was within its reaction time and all it managed was to further expose its throat to her jaws. Tendons tore and hot blood filled her mouth. No time to savour the pleasure from this easy kill. Using her momentum, she bowled forward, carrying the pair of them into a roll beyond the others, finishing by ripping out the rest of the beast’s neck. Fluidly she came to her feet, pivoting, guard up and taking in the evolving scene. Her pack companion had moved at the same time, upending the table, causing an impediment to two while raking his hindleg claws against the third. This was when surprise registered with the pair. Their legs and feet were covered, claws hidden behind some type of binding. The attack was ineffective.

The pair used the distraction to regroup, ripping the strange bindings from their flesh. Fur, fangs and claws freed, they prepared to meet these challengers.
That was when one lifted an object from its bindings about its waist, pointed it in their direction and her companion fell to the ground howling. She felt the hot pain in her mind as her pack companion crumpled and his light died. Anger leant her strength and she leapt towards the attacker but slightly off to one side anticipating his reaction. The other dodged instinctively and this was all that was needed, giving her a clear route away from this unknown danger. There would be time to howl, mourning the passing of her only companion.

Sparks erupted from the stonework to the side of her and more from in front of her. While she didn’t know how they were able to strike without moving, without claw or fang, fleeing in the open was clearly folly. She dived, rolled to the side, came up behind beside something that was not a cliff but still provided cover.

Hidden from sight, she sped down the narrow gap between the cliffs, turning as new gaps opened up to the side. She continued, at random until the size of the cliffs shrank, and ahead true hills, moorland and home was suddenly unveiled. A quick glance to make sure others weren’t near and she bolted across the open ground. Ahead she could hear howling, many voices raised in recognition, greeting and welcoming. A new pack beckoned, and she responded both with howls and opening her mind to the pack’s embrace.

Later We report now from the top of Tyr megaplex where the outbreak started. Statements from witnesses seem to agree that individuals, old packmates turned feral. It was as though a switch had been flipped. One moment they were there, on the edge of consciousness, the next they were snarling beasts, cornered and angry. The worst deaths were caused in the opening minutes as people were taken unawares. The only saving grace is that whatever affected them stripped them of their knowledge of modern weaponry. They didn’t seem to know what side arm blasters were, casting them aside along with knives and even clothes. Is this some sort of human zombie outbreak? Does this have something to do with the ARC assaults on this world? It seems probable. Much later Autopsy reports indicate the brain mass of those affected and killed during the event have not shrunk or otherwise been damaged, nor has their body been subjected to necrosis, refuting initial zombie infection hysteria. What it has revealed however is if anything, worse. Their genetic code of cells within the frontal lobes has been modified. What it shows is that previously dormant strands of genetic code are now active while others have been for want of a better description, turned off. Something has altered their introns and extrons with the result that they appear to have reverted to an ancestral form of dewiek.