[Formendacil]

The ninth morning after Formendacil's death, the last villagers of Dol-in-Gaurhoth rose.

Malkatoj and Azaelia met each other in the square. No one else appeared.

"What happened?" asked Azaelia. "Surely the Werewolf didn't get Naria."

"I don't know," said Malkatoj, baffled. "Let's go check."

They came to Naria's home, and discovered that the Huntress was gone. Only a parchment note- so terribly similar to those of the Werewolves- remained on her doorstep.

"Dear Villager," it began.

"For there is only one of you left. By now, Farael is dead. And I was unable to stop the Wolf. It was foolish of me, perhaps, to claim to be the Huntress. Not that I am not a Huntress, but that I have been unable thus far to save anyone. At least Alcarillo died honourably. The fact that I am still alive speaks of nothing but contempt for me by the Wolves.

I am leaving- this village, this land, this world.

Good-bye."

And it was signed:

~Naria~

"Oh dear..." said Azaelia.

"Umm... yeah...." said Malkatoj. "What about Farael?"

Standing a safe distance away from each other, and eyeing each other suspiciously, the two women made their way to Farael's home. The last man in the village lay bloodied, but neat, on his bed, hands folded over his chest.

"Naria must have been here," said Malkatoj. She turned to Azaelia.

"Okay, Werewolf, it's you and me. Let's have this out now- once and for all."

Fear in her eyes, Azaelia fled the house, certain a Werewolf was behind her....