The forest had been dark and cruel as of late, even at the cusp of winter. Only the birds still appeared, and they only appeared when the sun did, which was infrequent at best. In fact, this was likely the first sunlight Ali had seen in weeks. The winter had been harsh, and there had been talk of Wolves and Bears appearing in the Westwood. Wolves were rare, but he had not heard of a bear in seven winters, yet here they were, attacking livestock and men. Ali wouldn't easily forget having to fight off a small group of wolves after two sheep had been taken naught but a month ago. 

The day was crisp, and the sun's warmth had barely begun to lessen the cold of night as Ali left Fulton's Ferry to head southward toward the town, taking one of the lesser known roads to make better time. Old folk would say it brought you dangerously close to the Mountains, and Gods know what sort of spirits haunted that dreaded area. But there was many miles of forest separating the road from the mountain, and the young adventurer had taken the road many times in youthful rebellion of going against his elder's advice. What was one more trip? 

He whistled with the birds. The plump little creatures hanging in the trees above him as they sang, and though he whistled a tavern tune, they almost seemed to be singing with him. Ali wasn't one to be merry all the time. He took life for what it was. But it was a fine day, even with the chill. And he could hear the words in his head, from when he heard the song first all those years ago by his nan. 

"The fields are sewn and the winter's done.
Celebrate the Raven and await the Sun. 
Keep to your kin and love shall win. 
Whistle this tune until the demons are gone." 

He was just about to whistle the second verse, when something happened. 

There was a terrific snarl, and the growling roar of a large canine. Ali turned, just in time to see a flash of fire and the visage of a fanged mouth. Ali was no stranger to combat, nor safety on the road. He ducked under snapping jaws, but the weight of the big animal bore him down. Be tucked his legs under him and kicked out, even as his back hit the road. The beast fell off him, but it scrabbled back onto its feet in an instant. 

Ali rolled and reoriented himself, seeing his attacker plainly. 

It was a Varghulf. A malevolent species of wolf, intelligent and huge. The grey furred thing leaped at him again, Ali grabbing his staff and shoving it into the thing's mouth to keep it from clamping on his throat. But he couldn't keep the claws busy. They raked against his body, tearing off bits of clothing and skin. Ali cried out in pain, but pushed back against the beast, shoving it off him as he tore out the knife at his belt. The Varghulf wriggled free and snapped at him, but Ali managed to stab the beast thrice, causing it to squeal in pain. Another stab, and it howled and ran back into the woods, limping and shrieking. 

Ali stood there, panting, until the tall man collapsed to the ground, blood seeping out of the wounds on his leg and stomach.