Even now, the wolf could not resist the urge to look over his shoulder when he walked. One ear always tilted backwards, listening for pursuers he knew were not present. But could he truly be sure of that? The Romans, for all their cruelty, did not have the power to turn a man into a beast. If any power had brought him to these woodlands, it had to have been divine.

Yet doubt still lingered in his chest, ever-tight and heart hammering, and Samo did not let down his guard. He became aware of a border drawn across the land. This was told to him not in stonework or wooden fortifications, but through his nose. The scents of many lingered upon this woodland cloaked in unnatural autumn. The reddish-brown leaf litter reminded him of blood in its colour. Blood, and bone, the white trunks reaching towards an overcast sky.

Across the border, Samo sighted a fellow beast. A tiger. He saw something familiar in his eyes, and Samo realized he shared the look of one who fought in the arena. He stayed on his side of the border, unwilling to approach and yet unable to convince his limbs to carry him away.

Who were you? Samo asked, his rough voice still accented even after so many years away from Gaul.

Carnifex