"No..." Fendros started with a shivering voice, "No. That can't be true." Fendros cast his mind back to before he woke up. He was hunting, tracking a deer, then a great wolf beast knocked him off his horse, tore the horse apart and attacked him. He only just killed the beast, but it had torn him with its claws. With all the different races here denying they were bandits, and not an elf among them, Fendros had a hard time convincing himself that he was a werewolf. [i]That was just a dream I had,[/i] he thought, [i]these have to be swindlers. Take nobles and convince them to give you all their money with fanciful tales of power.[/i] "That beast I killed. It was a werewolf?" Fendros asked. The wound he sustained probably would have killed him, it would make sense if he was given the strength of a werewolf if he was to survive, or these people found him and saved his life. How could he be sure? Fendros shook his head, "I don't believe you," he said flatly. Fendros tried to get up, but only managed to sit up "I have to get back to Cheydinhal. Where are we? And where are my belongings?" Fendros' voice remained shakey from the cold and from nervousness, as much as he would hate to admit it. Most of these people were armed, but he still tried to sound somewhat authoritative.