Sooo... Hello everyone! Right now, I am primarily focused on my other story 'Origin', but this came up suddenly and I just had to write it. But it won't be updated any time soon unless I get swamped with reviews and/or I randomly decide to type up the next chapter.

Therefore, this is primarily a teaser if you will. Not exactly a prologue. Once I completely finish 'Origin' this story will have my full attention.

Alrighty then! Here ya go, and ENJOY! XD

Merlin ran as hard as he could. He dodged branches still damp with evening dew, and jumped over fallen trees that teemed with life subtly hidden under dead bark. Overhead the full moon hung lazily in a mist, casting dim light on the lands below and allowing Merlin to see the way clearer so he didn't fall. His rucksack swung wildly on his shoulder, as though reaching back lamely for the forgotten firewood that Merlin had dropped.

Sweat began to gleam on his forehead, and his lungs tightened from exhaustion from running so long, but Merlin didn't care. He had to get back to the knights.

Behind him, the predator continued to race through the foliage, forcing its way through thorn-bushes and vines that Merlin had to dodge. The creature was big, almost twice as tall as Merlin, and its yellow and black teeth were stained with blood from an earlier meal that night. Wily legs pushed on effortlessly, it was having fun with the chase, not knowing that its prey had an actual destination other than away from its jaws. Merlin hoped that it played the game long enough for him to get to the campsite. At last he saw the glows of a fire and heard the rowdy conversations of the knights ahead. Thank the gods!

"Arthur! Gwaine! Elyan!" He shouted, bursting into the campsite waving his arms frantically. They all stared at him with open mouths, probably wondering why he didn't have any firewood.

"Merlin! What're you-?" Arthur started.

"Something's out there! A-A ..." Merlin struggled to describe the beast. "A … thing!"

"A thing?"

"Big... Claws... Teeth-Not friendly!" Merlin clarified.

"Where?"At least Arthur knew when and when not to tease Merlin.

Merlin's eyes widened, and he looked towards the trees where he'd come from. The other knights unsheathed their swords looking in the same direction. Leon grabbed for a spear, while Percival settled for a crossbow. They all stood together in a circle, looking every which way for the beast.

Nothing stirred but the wind, and one owl thatasked for the identity of no one in particular. A minute went by, and still nothing. Arthur looked at Merlin, his face saying "Well?"

"It was there..." Merlin said lamely. "There was definitely something there!"

"It's alright, Merlin, I'm sure all of us have moments when we're afraid of the dark." Arthur rolled his eyes condescendingly, back to his teasing self.

"It was there! I'm telling you! It was coming after me... it... must have been scared off when it saw all of you there."

Gwaine looked up at that. "Are you saying we're frightening?"

"Whatever it was, its not here now." Leon said.

"Percival? Gwaine? Would you mind going out and finding us some firewood?" Arthur asked in a thinly veiled jibe at his manservant.

"I can go back." Merlin protested. He didn't want hs friends to be injured by the beast. He stood a better chance with his magic. But Percival and Gwaine were already leaving.

"Don't worry, Merlin. There are still plenty of dishes that need washing!" Arthur said cheerfully dumping a stack of them into Merlin's arms.

Grumbling, Merlin set off for the nearby stream. The others had already dismissed the entire thing and were teasing and laughing with each other again. Stupid clot-poles...

He dropped the dishes with a crash on the forest floor, scrubbing angrily at the first bowl filled with remnants of stew. 'Can't anyone listen to me? Just once?', he thought. It didn't matter if he was a servant, they should have learned by now that he counted for more than that. All but Arthur and Leon were formerly peasants, surely they of all people should understand. Especially Lancelot! But Lancelot wasn't here right now, he was back in Camelot taking care of training sessions for the duration of Arthur's hunt. Merlin remembered fondly the fit he threw when Arthur told him to remain behind, but Arthur's fit was stronger so Lancelot gave in. Stupid Arthur. Dollophead Arthur.

So engrossed in his raging thoughts, he failed to hear the telltale snapping of a twig, or the blood-lusting growl, he failed to see the red eyes watching him from the trees...

Merlin finished the last dish, and he picked the whole pile up again, walking back to the campsite. That's when he finally heard the growl, the very loud growl coming from his direct left. His heart pounded. Should he warn Arthur? Or should he try and take of this creature himself? Chances were he was going to end up using magic to help Arthur kill it anyway.

A giant, dark-brown paw stepped into the light, and Merlin in spite of himself, called out.

"Arthur!"

"What is it now, Merlin?"

Merlin didn't get the chance to say. Next moment, the huge beast pounced with the speed of lightening, and Merlin was brutally tackled to the ground; the dishes flying out of his grasp.

All he could see was the bloody snout and the creature's red eyes glaring down at him. His arms and torso were pinned under the beast's weight, but he squirmed the best he could anyway. He felt the magic rise up and light his eyes, poised to strike, but it was too late.

The beast's head reared up, opening its jaws snarling, and delved its teeth into Merlin's shoulder. His back arched, and he screamed, almost an inhuman sound, as terrible burning jolts shot all over his body from his shoulder. It felt like a hot poker had been jammed into it, and was being twisted round and round inside his body. Without realizing it, his magic instinctively reacted, forcing the monster to release his hold. It stumbled around, thrashing its head about in pain while blood and steam came out of its mouth, like Merlin's body had suddenly become unbearably hot.

Merlin couldn't see it anymore, and he was in too much pain to care. He couldn't even think about trying to stand, or even crawl, away from the terrible sounds coming from the beast. So he lay there, clutching his shoulder and rocking slightly from side to side. His body was on fire, he couldn't think about anything but the fire. It ripped through his body, inflaming his veins, making his heart beat threes times faster than was healthy. He struggled to breathe, as though his lungs were lined with smoke. Was he burning? Was he on a pyre? But then there wouldn't be grass... Where was he? Oh, Gods. Please get rid of the fire...

"Merlin! Merlin! Merlin, come on, open your eyes! Don't thrash, Merlin."

Who was that? His eyes weren't closed, and he wasn't moving... Was he? Oh, Gods, it burned!

He gasped when something cool touched his forehead. It was so cool it almost hurt, but it was unthinkably relieving at the same time. He opened his eyes and saw blurry shapes swaying about over his head. All of the colors mixed together, it all looked red. What was happening to him?

"Wha's happn'in t'me?" Did he just say that? Was he the one who had been yelling about the fire, too?

"You're injured, Merlin. I need you to calm down, alright? We need you to stay awake. Merlin?"

Merlin could no longer hear properly. Everything was fading, everything except the fire, which only seemed able to increase in heat and torture.

Time ceased to have meaning. Merlin was terrified he was in the Underworld, condemned to eternal suffering for all the mistakes he'd made. For trying to kill Morgana. For releasing the Great Dragon and being responsible for the hundreds of people it killed. For all the times he had resort to murder to protect the future king. For failing to stay alive and protect Arthur until he became king. He wanted to scream, to cry, to writhe, but he was paralyzed, mute, and blind. All he had was his feeling and thought, so he was forced to endure the flames in total submission. The highest point of intensity rippled back and forth through body. Touching and caressing every pore, every single miniscule part in his being. It never ended.

Suddenly, he felt a wonderfully cold sensation on his face, and he found he found he could move again. He opened his eyes and smiled gleefully at he saw.

The full moon, in all its glory and beauty. It caressed his face with icy hands, filling his ears with silent, silvery song. He wasn't dead. He wasn't dead.

But he was thirsty... Oh, so very thirsty. He really should have some water now... Right now.

He jolted into action, hearing shouts of surprise from all around but he ignored them. He had been lying right by a stream, only he was farther from it than he remembered being. Hardly aware of anything around him, he scrambled like an animal to the water. Not even thinking about it, he dunked his whole head in, swallowing great gulps of heavenly liquid with no intention of ever stopping. The fire was still there, but it didn't burn as badly, now it was like the embers that lay comfortably under the charred wood in a dying fire.

He felt something grab his shoulder, and he whipped around, throwing whatever had been touching him back and snarling. His vision focused suddenly, and he saw Percival lying on his back staring at him like he'd grown another head. Merlin didn't understand the problem until he realized that Percival must have been the one to grab Merlin's shoulder, therefore Merlin must have thrown Percival, the biggest man he knew, five feet away from him with sheer strength. Not magical strength, normal physical strength. What the hell?

He looked down at himself, surprised to see himself crouched in an animalistic position, and he looked around, noticing his surroundings at last.

All the other knights besides Percival were standing in a group nearer to the campsite, with Arthur at the forefront. They all were staring at him with the same expression of shock and confusion that Percival had. Something bloody and brown caught his eye, and he saw the corpse of the monster that attacked him. A shiver of recognition, and with it his heart palpitated in fear. He seen this before in one of Gaius' books.

It had a body structure similar to a man, only its limbs were far longer, and its back hunched over all the time. The back paws were like that of a wolf, but the front paws had four bendable, clawed fingers covered with sparse fur. Most terrifying was its head, the exact head of a wolf, mouth open in an eternal howl of pain from the spear wound in its gut.

Lycanthrope... Merlin thought. Words from the text flashed in front of his vision, inspiring panic. Often referred to as the werewolf... Part man, part wolf... Venom that can take effect in less than an hour... Taste of human blood... Transformation... Oh, no.

"Bit me..." Merlin mumbled. He looked at his hands, they were red and shaking, this couldn't be happening. Why to him? What did his destiny have to say for itself now?

Taste of human blood... No, no, no...

"Get-get from me!" He shouted, getting to his feet.

"What? Merlin, don't move. You need to-"

"No! You can't be here. I can't b-be here!" The heat was starting to consume him again, but he had to get away, he couldn't hurt Arthur. More than that, he couldn't hurt his friend, any of them. He ran away from them all, not caring where he went as long as it was away.

Not more than a few steps and his body burst into flames, and he went down. He gripped the grass with an iron hold, tearing at its roots and gritting his teeth. His body convulsed until he was on all-fours, and still it convulsed. He couldn't think what was happening to him, he was in a state of shock while he felt his body unbiddenly contorting into an unfamiliar form. His eyes were open, but all he could see was a red blur and all he felt was pain.

CRACK!

His elbow joints snapped the wrong direction, and a moment later his knees did the same thing. His teeth grew heavier in his mouth. His thumbs wriggled up his wrist, and his big toes wriggled up his ankle. A series of more cracks and his back lurched forward, forcing more weight onto his arms. His ears grew larger. His jaw snapped and popped, making room for more teeth and stretching out the skin on his face. His nostrils widened and thickened, growing outward with his mouth. All the while hairs grew longer and thicker all over his body. If Merlin could think of one remark to make about this, it was that it was the very meaning and essence of the word 'uncomfortable'.

The last to go was his mind. Instinct and an inexplicable lust for blood replaced the memories of his family and friends. He forgot the name of his mother, the faces of the knights that surrounded him concerned and afraid right now, the wise words of his one father-figure Gaius, the kindness and pure soul of his friend Gwen. All of it was beaten mercilessly to the depths of his mind, unable to fight back against the unstoppable tidal wave of fire and inhumanity. He even forgot about his destiny. The one thing that would not, could not back down was his magic, because apparently whatever form he took it always went with him. It wasn't part of him, it was him.

But it still couldn't help him right now.

All of the pain was gone now though, like it had never been. Merlin was gone. In his place stood a magnificent wolf black as the night sky, proud and wild. His stomach demanded food, his appetite demanded blood. He looked around sniffing the air and growled with pleasure, mouth watering. Standing all around him looking as dumb as deaf cattle were five scrumptious humans, veins pulsing with blood under weeks of meals of meat. Perfect prey, and so convenient.

He would kill the one with the abnormal large sum of hair first, he was furthest from the others and therefore an easy target. One of the humans was making sounds, which sounded oddly familiar to the beast, but he was focused on his prey.

It yelled as he leaped for its throat. Suddenly he noticed that it was holding a sharp piece of metal, and was swinging it right at him. He yelped and scrambled away from it, blood dribbling from his stomach. It was a small cut, not worthy of any worry. Now, he was angry.

His face screwed up in a ferocious snarl, hackles raised and tail high.

These puny scraps would regret picking a fight with him.