Lake Metatherios lay smooth as glass, its dark waters breathing mist into the morning air. The village clung to the shoreline. Smoke curled from chimneys scented with resin and pine sap.

  On poles and rafters hung incense burners that added a warm calming scent. The incense recipe was as old as the were-folk. When the moon was full and high in the sky as it was now, all were-folk transformed into their half-human forms. Instincts soared and tempers were high. The calming scent was vital to keep the peace.

  Especially now that all the village met at the main square. Foxes, bears, squirrels, a few of each animal that could be found in the nearby forests. The chance to get a certain heart animal was higher if it was a more common one. There were a dozen were-geese, but the village elder was the only one of his kind. The only one the village records contained of this specific species.

  Darla Scalekin was the only were-dragon and had been head elder for now more than two hundred years. She had long mastered the art of keeping her transformation under control. For a century, no outsider had even glimpsed her true form. Now even she showed signs of age. Former black hair now full of grey. Her once fiery breath no more than warm air.

  But she still was the undisputed elder, and her word was law. Which was important, since literally everyone wanted to partake in the Great Hunt that had been announced by the academy. Darla had started by imposing an age limit. It had not been popular, but limiting the age range to about the age of the academy’s contenders had made sense.

  Then she had a long debate with the council of elders whether to send the three only were-folk members that had meaningful contact with students in the last years. After a final vote, they had decided the advantages of personal contacts were too useful to ignore.

  Now she proclaimed their decision before the assembled village.

  “As most of you know, the first three members of our team are set. Ursa, Hrafnkel and Sigrun. They have met some of the academy’s mages and they know the dangers of the Wildewood. Sigrun is one of our few hunters, by class and profession. So, we’d send her in any case. Ursa may be a cook, but everyone still remembers what she did to those bandits last year with only a cast-iron frying pan. I’d love to see anyone standing in her way, even when only using her claws. And Hrafnkel, well, he may be a herbalist, but everyone knows there’s few things he hasn’t dabbled in. A true Jack of all trades.”

  Ursa, the female were-bear, rolled her shoulders as she walked, broad and solid as a walking oak. Her fur was a warm brown threaded with lighter patches where old scars had healed imperfectly. She carried no visible weapon. She did not need one.

  Hrafnkel followed with a lazy grin, the were-honeybadger moving with loose, unbothered confidence. His eyes were sharp and amused. Honey stains still darkened the edge of his bracers, worn like trophies.

  Sigrun brought up the rear, the female were-wolf quiet as falling snow. Pale eyes, silver-grey fur. She watched the elder directly, neither challenging nor averting her gaze.

  Most villagers cheered, only some grumbled. She continued. “Now we will hear the applications for the other five spots we have.”

  “Step forward,” she said. “And speak freely.”

  The first to move was a lean were-lynx, her fur dappled like moonlight through leaves. She bowed with careful precision, one knee touching the earth.

  “I am Talaris of the reed-marsh,” she said. “My eyes see heat as others see color. I can track across water, grass and stone. If the prey bleeds, I will find it. If it does not, I will still know where it sleeps.”

  She lifted her chin, whiskers twitching.

  The elder’s tail flicked once in approval.

  Next came a massive were-boar, tusks capped with etched bronze rings. He planted his hooves wide, unashamed of the gouges his weight carved into the earth.

  “Brannok,” he grunted. “the shield-breaker.”

  He struck his chest with a fist like a stone mallet.

  “I hold the line. I draw attention. When the Hunt turns ugly, I will be uglier. I have stood against charging wildebeests and lived. Stand me in front, and nothing reaches the rest unless I allow it.”

  Ursa’s eyes lit with interest. She nodded once to him, bear to boar.

  A were-bull strode forward, fur dark as storm clouds, muscles bound. He did not bow.

  “I am Khorvan,” he said, voice low and steady. “I do not chase prey. I end it.”

  He met the elder’s gaze without flinching.

  The elder’s eyes narrowed, studying not just his strength but the control holding it in check. She reluctantly shook her head. “Brannok and Khorvan, if we’d be going to war, I would choose you in a heartbeat. You are our best fighters. But this will be a hunt. Speed and precision will be more important than brute strength. And if strength should be needed, we already have Ursa.

  Both pairs of eyes turned to the were-bear standing proud. Were-bull and were-boar looked at each other, then nodded reluctantly.

  A ripple of low murmurs followed as a slender were-otter slipped forward, still damp as if he’d come straight from the lake. He bowed with exaggerated flourish.

  “Kelren,” he said brightly. “Scout, swimmer and diver.”

  He twirled a thin cord between his fingers.

  “I can breathe water, hold breath longer than most can hold grudges, and I know how to make boats sink without anyone noticing until it is far too late. Lakes, rivers, flooded ruins, cursed springs. If it’s wet, I own it.”

  Hrafnkel snorted. “I like him already.”

  There was a commotion as a slender female were-racoon stepped out of line and protested. “That wis my line! Ye filthy fish-thief must’ve heard me practicin’! An’ don’t forget it, I’m the better swimmer, tae!”

  The head elder held her hand up to silence her. “There are few lakes and rivers of note in the northern Wildewood. We will need one swimmer at most.” She stood up and took of a ring and held it up. “I will throw this into the lake. The one who brings it back to me, may join the team. Fiona” she nodded at the female were-racoon, “and Kelren are claiming the spot of water specialist. Does anyone else want to compete?”

  No one stepped forward.

  She walked to the shore. A few whispered words gathered magic and the ring started to glow. A simple light spell to make sure it wasn’t just lost in the dark waters. She threw the ring with all her might. It arced through the air, a glowing point, sparkling against the pale sky, before splashing into the lake’s dark waters.

  The were-otter was already in motion, a blur of sleek motion as he dove, his body cutting through the water effortlessly. He moved like, well, an otter. Swift and smooth, heading straight for the sinking ring, each stroke precise, his breathing even.

  The were-raccoon, did not follow his lead. She crouched for a heartbeat longer, her eyes tracking the ring as it sank beneath the surface. Then, with a single powerful leap, she launched herself into the water. Unlike the otter’s inborn effortless grace, her dive was a masterstroke of training. She hit the water with a fluid motion, sending ripples across the lake, her body folding and stretching in the water with a precision that matched the were-otter’s own.

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  She was fast. Her lithe frame weaved through the water, close enough for the otter to feel the competitive tension coil between them. Both dove almost at the same moment, but the otter’s body was better built for diving. His hands snatched the ring from the lakes bottom. He’d won. He swam back, showing off his speed again. The were-racoon barely managed to follow, so she arrived at the shore after him. He already presented the ring to the crowd.

  Congratulations and jeers sounded while he returned the ring to his pocket and dived right into the crowd to shake the hands of his admirers.

  Fiona caught up to him on the last steps and also offered her hand. “Congratulations, ye truly are the better swimmer.”

  He shook her hand once and gave her a condescending smile. “That was never in doubt. A useless contest, with obvious result.”

  Then he stepped forward to the high elder and put his hand into his pocket to get the ring. Then into his other pocket. He started to frantically pat his clothes.

  Fiona meanwhile passed him, walked casually up to Darla Scalekin and put something small into her hand.

  The were-dragon’s eyes narrowed a moment in surprise, then she chuckled in understanding. She held up the ring Fiona had given her: “As it was clearly stated: The winner is the one bringing me the ring. Fiona has proven cleverness and abilities that may well benefit our team, in addition to her prowess in swimming and diving.”

  Kelren slammed his flat tail against the ground, then stomped his foot. He seemed ready to start a fight, then just let out a frustrated grow. “Argh… I should have seen that coming. Your talent for legerdemain is well known. I’ll at least participate by training you in the art of the bow… and the hand drill. See me after the feast.”

  The sporting way in which he accepted his defeat was well received by the audience. Then came a voice from the back. “That girl will steal anything that isn’t nailed down!”

  The were-racoon looked up sharply, pretending to be offended. “Tha’s pure slander! No a word o’ it’s true! A wheen daft nails arenae gonnae stop me. I’ve got a crowbar!”

  Everyone laughed, then got serious again as the choosing continued.

  A were-snake stood up next, boasting about his talent with poison, but then the villager’s attention was drawn to a silver light that appeared in the middle of the market.

  People screamed and left the stone dais, that had been here for centuries. A silent part of daily life, that now started glowing. The high elder stood up and calmed everyone down, but ordered them to retreat to the edge of the open area. Moments later the area lit up bright and a winged man appeared on the dais.

  He looked around, then waved. Seemingly not surprised by the huge crowd. “Hi! I’m Skarran Skyclaw. A were- falcon. I’m a play… I mean a hero send by the gods to stand by you in your time of need.” He spotted the small group of a villagers that had been already chosen for the team and frowned. “Say, I’m not too late for the audition?”

  Darla looked at him sternly. “What are you talking about?”

  “The audition for the great hunt? Man, I only found out two days ago in the forum. Took a while to get the devs to allow me to make a custom race. But here I am! Tata!”

  He waved, then got serious. “Listen, you have to take me into the team. I can’t miss out on that. It’s the big thing in the north. Rumor says, they’re going to hunt a small dragon! I could be a dragon slayer! Well, we could. Of course. I’d share the glory with my team.” He made a thumbs up gesture with both hands.

  “No really, you need me! I’ve made the perfect build for this. A were-falcon ranger! I can fly! And shoot a bow. And my eyesight is viciously sharp. There’s no way we lose with me as a flying scout! And look at these claws!” He lifted first his feet, which wore no shoes and had long eagle claws the size of human fingers and then his hands, which had five fingers, but each also ending in a sharp claw. “I can cut a goblin up with one swing!”

  Darla resisted the urge to sigh and roll her eyes. It wasn’t worth it. Refusing a revenant would just end with him building his own team and making a mess of everything. “Well said, Skarran Skyclaw. You may join the team.” She waited for his excited hooting to end, then continued. “We still have three spots to fill. I…” She stopped when the spawnpoint lit up again. Another revenant materialized. This time a slender man with snow-white fur in formfitting leather armor and a fencing sword at his side. He looked around at the surprised villagers, then gave them a formal bow. “Aladar the Quick at your service. If you’ll have me, you will get my exceptional sword skills and my vast knowledge of exotic and magical animals and monsters.”

  Darla just sighed and just winked the surprised revenant over to join the other team members. The guy seemed competent and moved like an experienced fighter. And having two team members who could be sacrificed in an emergency could not hurt.

  “Really? Just like that? I’d had prepared a presentation and credentials…”

  The high elder took on a regal pose and spoke more formally. “Your prowess with the fencing weapon is obvious, as are the speed and dexterity all ermines are famous for. No more is needed. Now…”

  She waited a moment to make sure no more revenants appeared. Then she continued. “I expect you all were missing one contender. Someone, we all know would be perfect for any adventure…”

  From different parts of the crowd, one name was heard: “Skandi”

  Darla continued, as if she couldn’t hear them. “Someone, known for his indomitable courage…”

  More voices joined in. “Skandi! Skandi!”

  Darla looked around, but could not see the one she was waiting for.

  “Well, it seems he is too humble to appear and thereby suggest he could be worthy. Alas, we have dire need of our greatest hero.”

  Now the whole village was shouting the name. “Skandi! Skandi! Skandi!”

  Then the crowd opened to let someone through.

  The revenants watched in confusion, as not the expected giant warrior appeared, but a were-folk man that was at most average height, maybe even below. He grinned, showing his giant teeth, while holding his flat tail high. He wore a bare-armed leather west and leather trousers.

  With a “if you insist”-expression on his face, the were-beaver sauntered through the crowd, nodding to his admirers and gesturing them to calm down. They didn’t.

  The calls went louder and louder. “Skandi! Irontooth! Goblinbane!”

  Darla clapped her hands. “Enough. Skandi Irontooth, will you join the hunt to bring honor to our village and our people?”

  “If the brave people of our village insist, who am I to deny my calling. I will join the hunt. For the glory of our team and our village!”

  While people clapped his back, the were-falcon turned to the villager next to him. “He doesn’t seem like a fighter. What is he?”

  The man looked at him as if he was dumb. “He’s a lumberjack, of course. Skandi Irontooth. Also known as Goblinbane. He single-handedly fought off a surprise raid at the winter festival last year. Killed a dozen goblins with his axe. Bit the throat off of a goblin, when his axe was stuck in a corpse. When their reinforcements arrived a few hours later, we were ready. But we didn’t need to fight, as he had prepared a trap that dropped half a forest worth of trees at them. Crushed not only half a dozen goblins, but also their spirit. The rest ran like mice.”

  A small were-mouse man walking by turned when he heard that and gave the man a kick in the shin.

  “Ouch! I meant normal mice, not you.”

  The man looked up at him. “Try cornering a mouse and force it to fight. My kin are clever enough to avoid fighting where it’s not necessary, they’re not cowardly.”

  “Ok, ok! Calm down. No insult was intended.”

  Skarran left the two to their quarrel and went to where the team members were assembled.

  Darla’s voice sounded again. “There is but one spot left for our team. There are many contenders, many who are worthy and who would be a good addition. But I see a weakness in our lineup. Our enemies are mostly mages of the academy. And we have no magic users yet.”

  Mumbling was heard from the crowd, interspersed with protests from the ones who wanted to join themselves.

  Darla looked around. “We have no mages or priests.”

  An old man heaved himself up on his cane and gave an insulted: “Oy!”

  Darla nodded at him. “At least none of an age fit for adventuring.” She waited a moment longer, then looked at the new arrivals. “You don’t happen to have another revenant that could fill that role?”

  The two looked at each other, then shook their heads.

  Aladar the Quick answered. “Sorry. I asked Sarah from accounting to join me, but she’s already created a character at the capital.”

  Darla noticed a disturbance at the back of the crowd. A red furred female were-fox was moved through the crowd. Not really struggling, but clearly unwilling. Darla’s draconic mouth twisted into a knowing smile. “Well, who would have expected that. Scarlet, are you volunteering?”

  The young were-vixen looked around in near panic. “Me? No. Just passing through.”

  She tried to disappear into the crowd, but they wouldn’t let her.

  Darla continued. “It seems your friends think you would be perfect for the job. What do you think?”

  The woman gave the grinning group of girls blocking her way a scathing look, then turned around to Darla. “I don’t know how I could be of help. I’m a mere herbalist. And you already have Hrafnkel for that.”

  Someone back in the crowd seemed to disagree. “Come on! Everyone knows you’re a witch!”

  She turned around in a flash of red fur, looking for the speaker.

  Darla spoke in a calm voice. “Scarlet, it’s true. Everyone knows old Hattie has trained you as her successor. I know it’s tradition to keep that class a secret, but we’re a small village. And you’ve been seen walking on the lake's water several times. Half the people here can smell the witch’s brews on you even now.”

  The were-vixen palmed her face and sighed. “Okay. Count me in.”

  She joined the waiting group and by that, the team was set.

  Darla sent a letter to the academy for registration a day later.

  Team “Moons Glory”

  Aladar, were-ermine, fencer

  Fiona, female were-racoon, thief

  Hrafnkel, were-honey-badger, herbalist and jack of all trades.

  Scarlet, female were-fox, witch

  Skandi “Goblinbane” Irontooth, were-beaver, lumberjack

  Skarran Skyclaw, were-falcon, ranger

  Sigrun, female were-wolf, hunter

  Ursa, female were-bear, cook