Third wakes up after a very uncomfortable sleep under the bright moonlight. Between constant nightmares and the snoring of his traveling companion, Fredrick, it was a wonder he did not loose his mind. Stretching a bit and getting the kinks from his neck he notices a smell. It wasn't there before. Coppery? Maybe tinny? He opens his eyes further taking a better look around when he notices something else. The quiet. Fredrick's incurable snoring has abated! As he turns to regard his companion he comes to the realization of why.
Fredirick lies still, in a pool of his own blood. His throat ripped from his body, several gashes across his chest have exposed the now empty ribcage! His heart has been torn from its protection.
As Third jumps to his feet and draws his blade, he suddenly realizes that his hands are covered in blood! The blade's hilt slips from his grasp and clatters to the floor. As he stares down at the silver blade he no longer sees his face, but that of a wolf! Snarling teeth, stained with blood. His muzzle matted with the thick essense of life!