Silence reigned over the forest, watching, waiting patiently for its kingdom to come to life. The sun would be the first to wake, spreading its wings and coating everything in a bewitching golden glow. The leaves would shimmer, tiny drops of dew glistening as the gentle wind brushed aside the gelid blanket that had drifted over the previous night.

Animals would begin their daily roaming, scavenging for food, protecting territory, simply following the ingrained instructions they had been born with. Birds would flutter through the sky, chirping and cooing to their brethren, deer would bound through the meadows, foxes would play by the creek.

The last to arise would be the beasts. Those who took two forms, who had stowed themselves away in this land of peace, bringing with them their wars and strife and bloodshed. Other animals strayed away from them, fearing their own demise if they even simply caught a glimpse of those golden eyes.

However, that morning, one beast was already awake, preying upon the slumbering creatures of the forest. It moved with grace, slinking away in what little shadows remained that dawn, its gaze surveying the area before it. The sleek raven fur that covered the beast blended easily with the darkened bark of the trees, further camouflaging it as it stalked inaudibly through the woods.

That was the beauty of the beasts, they were the perfect predator. They moved with an elegance and speed that was unaccounted for in every other creature's genetics. They were unique, evolved so far past that of ordinary humans that they no longer classed themselves as that. They had accepted their second nature, embraced it to push themselves beyond their homo sapien counterparts.

The beast stilled, its front left paw lifted off the ground midstep as it sniffed the air. It wasn't alone. It lowered its head, those golden eyes searching through the trees for the disturbance in the air it had sensed. Remaining in a more guarded stance, the beast continued along its path, listening more closely to the morning sounds drifting through its territory.

The trees began to get more sparse, parting completely and leading out into a wide, open meadow. The beast lifted it's head, finally seeing who, or rather what, had disturbed it's morning walk.

No more than 10 metres or so away, stood precisely in the middle of the meadow, was a man. Though, the beast knew it was no man. The thing stood before him did not breath, did not sleep, and most definitely did not live. It was dead. An undead creature that fed on the blood of its own kind, or the kind it used to be.

"Good morning, Mr Harlow," the man's deep voice resonated through the still air. It was apathetic, no discernable tone to make out, not even an expression on the pale face to convey any emotion. And despite the two extended canines, sharpened at the tip to make piercing flesh oh so very easy, the man spoke with no lisp.

The beast stepped further out into the morning light, not allowing itself to bask in it's warming glow as it usually would. There was no time for that, not when business obviously had to be taken care of. Stopping merely a few steps from the man, the beast stared into those red eyes. Some would say they were the colour of blood, how ironic, the beast thought they bared more similarities to red cinnabar, oddly mesmerising illumined in the dawn.

"As much as I know you value this form of yourself, Mr Harlow, I advise the ability to speak would be useful, don't you think?" the man stood with his hands behind his back, a neutral stance obviously meant to convey little oppression to the beast in front of him. The man took two steps backwards, shifting his gaze elsewhere, giving the beast room as it returned to it's human form.

"To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr Isamar?" Fionn stood in the place of the beast, his bare muscles still twitching and flexing with the residual energy of his changing.

"A gift before we begin, not that there is anything wrong with your nudity, Mr Harlow," Dante Isamar held out a neatly folded pair of grey sweatpants to Fionn, his pale fingers gently grazing the invisible yet easily noticeable wall that separated Fionn's land from that of the Isamar Estate.

"Thank you, Mr Isamar," Fionn laced just a tad of humour into his own tone, noticing the ghost of a smile on Dante's lips. He lifted the sweatpants from Dante's outstretched hand, slipping them on quickly before returning to his previous posture. Fionn felt slightly underdressed in comparison to Dante, who adorned a beautiful, clearly expensive, steel grey dress shirt paired with black slacks. Simple yet sophisticated. The fundamental definition of Dante Isamar.

"I apologise for the intrusion upon your morning stroll," Dante still spoke with little emotion, making his apology almost entirely redundant, "but I stumbled across something a few days ago that may... peak your interest. You haven't happened to have lost a young cub recently, have you?" Fionn's jaw hardened, the tension between the two men suddenly suffocating at the mention of the cub.

"You have her?" Dante's mouth lifted at the corners, that wicked little smirk rearing its head for just a second, but he said nothing. Instead, he tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, alerting Fionn to the second man, the second vampire, strolling leisurely toward them, holding the hand of a grinning young girl.

"This is cause for more than war, Dante," Fionn seethed, his golden eyes blazing with a fury he couldn't quite manage to quell. Dante merely chuckled, a deep, melodic sound that didn't last very long and didn't suit the dark demeanour of the man.

"Relax, Fionn, I didn't take little Eloise here. I found her," snarling and growling rose up from behind Fionn, drowning out the birdsong from above. Three more beasts, three wolves of varying colour, stepped slowly from the tree cover, baring their teeth at Dante, who didn't look at all frightened. Then again, Fionn had not expected he would.

"She is unharmed, Mr Harlow. You may thank my father for that," the second man, one who looked so young but somehow spoke with a voice that projected over a thousand years of knowledge, lifted the young girl into his arms, eliciting a soft giggle from her. The noise from the wolves grew louder then ceased as Fionn lifted his hand, being alpha had its perks.

"Kastor," Dante chided, an almost sympathetic half-smile on his mouth, "let the child return to her pack," Dante returned those cinnabar eyes to Fionn, "my son has bonded somewhat with Eloise, he would very much like to keep her, I believe, though he knows he can't," with a chaste kiss to her forehead that sent spikes of rage through Fionn, Kastor knelt down and placed Eloise back on the grass. The child glanced toward Fionn then turned and wrapped her arms around Kastor's neck, muttering inaudibly to the vampire.

"El, you must return to your alpha and your pack," Kastor urged, glancing anxiously toward Dante then Fionn, "you have a family, El, we aren't them," Dante sighed, noting the impatience in Fionn's expression.

"Fionn, you may," Dante said quietly, as though he had read the wolf's mind. Fionn stepped over the border, removing Eloise from Kastor and carrying her on his hip back over to his territory, startled somewhat by her immediate sobbing.

"As I mentioned, they bonded," Dante muttered, his eyes remaining on Eloise as she was taken from Fionn by another man who slipped away into the forest.

"There better not be a fang mark on her," Fionn muttered, venom in his tone and anger still flaring in his expression, "where did you find her?"

"A hunter camp, they had been targeting a few of my own progenies. She had been injured, so I kept her for a few days and cared for her. Despite all your talk of trials and fair rights, I had no doubt if I had brought her to you harmed you would have assumed it was my doing," Fionn wanted to counter what Dante had said but he knew the vampire was right, he would have let the beast within him take over and all he had strived for peace with Dante's coven would be ripped apart - along with the vampire's body.

"Well," Fionn sighed, extending a hand to Dante, "thank you, Dante, for ensuring her safety and healing her," for a moment, Dante merely stared at Fionn's hand. Neither had ever touched before, not even when they agreed upon the treaty between their respective people. Fionn thought Dante may refuse, actually began to lower his hand before it was clasped in the icy grip of the vampire.

Dante's skin was smooth, definitely colder than Fionn's but still bearable. He could feel the vampire's powerful aura seeping through their touch, reaching out with its tendrils of death to probe at the warmth of the wolf. Again, odd but still bearable. Curiosity was not malicious anyway.

"I hope to see you around, Mr Harlow, or, I suppose I don't. Wouldn't want to catch you on my land," Dante dropped his voice lower, obviously aware that Fionn's pack members still lingered on the outskirts of the forest behind him, "I'd have to do all sorts of awful things to you," Dante turned without another word, walking away in step with his son. Fionn observed as they went, waiting until he could no longer make out their blurred forms between the trees. He had always had a strange feeling about Dante Isamar, and he couldn't help thinking that there was something very intriguing about that vampire. Something that pulled Fionn in further every time they met.