"Where are you?" she whispered, hope leaving her body, fast replaced by a fierce panic. The trees seemed to mock her, rustling their whispers back: they're gone they're gone they're gone. The pain in her hip was growing and she began to stumble over fragile twigs and soil. Tears fell down her cheeks, pain sinking in while she desperately clutched the silver necklace. It had been her sister's, and also served as the last physical remnant of her family. Her breathing was rapid and her hands trembled with fear, digits digging into the forest floor as she tripped onto the cold hard ground. She was plagued by the overwhelming thought that she would die here, alone. Blood slowly trickled down her leg, messy crimson contrasting with her pale skin. She was completely helpless, and if the blood loss didn't kill her, surely the biting cold would.

It wasn't soon until she fell unconscious.

Hours later, she was woken up by by the soft sound of a moan. A low sound: an animal, probably in pain. The winter woods were still and empty, but the girl shuffled closer to the noise, despite the warning signals littered around the forest, not least of which were the bloody feathers scattered along the path she was about to walk onto. Wearily, Lily assessed her surroundings. But what she found wasn't what she'd been expecting. Although she hadn't been paying much attention in her hazy state, the girl could tell that something was definitely off. For in the middle of North Carolina, lying on the middle of the forest floor, was a wolf.

But Lily, a mere nine years old, was not interpretative to the kind of danger this encounter suggested. She had far greater concerns about the state of the creature itself: its fur smeared with blood, the wide wound jutting wide open by its neck. Its nose was black as the night, but its fear was practically tangible. Her stomach dropped. Her only concern for herself at this moment was her inability to help another. How could she possibly do so when she was minutes away from death herself? The wolf's eyes, however, calmed her. Its emotions were almost a sound to the girl, like the long forgotten chorus of a song belted in a dead language. The creature's teeth glistened a sharp threatening white, but by some strange, messed up instinct, Lily knew that it wouldn't hurt her. 

She grunted, struggled to sit up, then once again resigned herself to the floor. Her ragged breathing almost made her miss the sound: the unmistakable sound of English arising from the animal creature she had laid herself next to.

"I knew your family," it whispered. "They have done me a favour, and so I vowed to do one for you." Its deep but hoarse voice rumbled, muzzle glowing beneath the dim light of her feeble lantern. Lily squeezed her eyes shut. No matter how sweet the creature, it couldn't possibly know Ma and Pa, just like it couldn't possibly know Lissa. She refused to be fooled by any possible glimmer of hope surrounding the circumstances of their deaths. Lily's body trembled as it attempted to shake the icy fingertips of the cold, adrenaline rushing through her as black spots danced across her vision. The wind battered against the young girl's face, and the forest was whispering warnings. 

"But first, the necklace," the beast urged, "Please give me the necklace." And as if in a trance, a very foolish one, Lily touched the string of the necklace, the last remaining piece of her family, and tugged it over her muddy hair, carefully placing it onto the clump of leaves which stood like an offering in front of the beast. The light in its eyes was unnatural, and she could see her own meagre reflection through the deep pupils. In her delirium, Lily faintly reflected on the fact that its voice didn't sound like a voice, really, not in the sense that it would be present and tangible in the physical world. Its nature was that of a command. It was like an intrinsic radio signal, or the voices that spoke over each other in her dreams: the silent narrator. This beast's voice was something that was beyond language. 

"Now put it on the wound". Lily blinked slowly, and at this point was rather done with all the instructions, wondering whether perhaps her almost certainly incoming death was a better option than the panic that she felt when people (or creatures, as she had now learned) asked her to do things. She made calm movements to drape the necklace over its fur, pulling steadily back when the creature snapped its teeth: an expression that for some reason was still not triggering the lack of fight or flight: a brave stupidity which graced the lives of many children. But at her reaction, it stilled. "Your wound" it uttered softly. She squinted at its change in demeanour, still slightly giddy with the incoming giggles at the thought that she was talking to a wolf. Lily didn't have much fear of death, and the realisation that she may die soon was not as troubling as it may have been to others. So with the morbid clarity that she might not stay on Earth much longer, she didn't really question the beast's back and forth instructions, and rested her necklace on her wound.

It seemed that the two were dying together, like a happy family, a kind that was lost to her already at the mere age of nine. And if she had paid more attention, and maybe shown a little more concern for her continued inhabitance on Earth, she might have noticed the fascinating blinding light bleeding into the splatters of her own blood, where the necklace lay. The light which first seemed white, but on second thought was more silver. 

Lily closed her eyes slowly, resting her very human cheek on the furry cheek of the wolf's. But as she began to drift off, she heard that faint sound of unmistakable English coming from the muzzle of the creature. 

"Welcome, darling," the words greeted. The beast's voice sounded strange now, more human-like and less believable coming from the wolf, like someone else was speaking, someone who knew the ways of humans. 

"Welcome, to the immortals."