Exton

I step outside for a moment, into the darkness of the alley. Darkness, I muse. My element.

I reach into a pocket and remove the stylized image of a hound, very old, carved from bone so old it has turned black. Taking the talisman in hand, I breathe on it three times, then speak. "Perro... come to me, brother of the Hunt, I am in need of thee."

Far off, I hear the answering cry of a wolf... or perhaps - just perhaps - a Hound.