Outskirts of Manchester - Midnight - March 1st, 2010

She stood at the edge of the cliff and watched the city lights far below. The chill air lifted her hair and tossed it across her shoulders, braiding it into tangles with windy fingers. Lifting her head, she sniffed at the air absently, thoughts drifting towards an inevitable conclusion.

What was she doing here? Manchester held nothing she couldn't have in a hundred other cities. There was nothing to tie her to the place. No one she would call friend, no one she could confide in, or who confided in her. Molotov had disappeared, Rael had disappeared. The holy man, James Whitmore had promised to speak with her, and it seemed even those kinds of promises couldn't hold water for even he had disappeared.

And Zeek. He might have been the last one who could have kept her in this place, but it seemed obvious to her that his interests lay elsewhere. Should he bother to search, he would find the haven empty and the white gown shredded on the bed. The breaking of one last tie.

Where would she go? Rain had no idea. The forest seemed as good a place as any for the time being. She almost smiled at the thought of running endlessly on four legs, losing herself for a time in the wolf, free of human constraints. It was a pleasant thought, one that caused her form to ripple until she allowed it to settle into a pale furred wolf.

Lifting her head again, she sent a long plaintive howl skyward, letting the moon take her sorrows for a time. She stood so poised, back lit upon the granite rock, like a statue carved from starlight until the last sound of her call faded away. Then she turned and disappeared into the trees.