Azzan smiled grimly as the animal's yowl became a dying hack and pulled on the moonsilver chain. The blade slid from the great beast's ribcage with a whisper of resistance. He gazed upon it dispassionately. The perfect blade shone in the harsh sun, the red blood upon it a rich, deep crimson. It was the blood of a split heart. Azzan brought the blade to his nose and inhaled deeply, the essence in his core vibrating with excitement. He licked the blade gently.<br/>It was an explosion. The forces within him stirred as something new entered the balance. The cries of beast and woman long dead were joined by a new sound, their voices raised not in despair or entrapment but in exultation. Azzan's blood burned and greedily he licked the blade clean, then turned his eyes to the corpse.<br/>Vicious teeth tore armored hide and blood spilled, the great mole-hound's vicious maw turned scarlet with the blood of his brethren whose entrails now sat on the desert sands. A great howl filled the air and a burning silver mark flashed on the beast's forehead, and then it was gone.<br/>Azzan was himself again. He stretched, felt the new muscles. His paws felt the sand and saw through it. He knew the rest of the pack in retreat, and they knew him. But their alpha was a corpse, and his shape now belonged to a man. They were meaningless.<br/>No humans stood near. Azzan concentrated for a fleeting moment, and was himself again. He knelt to the corpse and carved a circle in the sand, then another within it, then a crescent to the left. The three marks of Luna. He took the creature's blood and filled the outermost circle. "In your honor, this offering, my lady. Glory to you this night."<br/><br/>Some time later, an eight-tailed mole hound burst from the sands in an alley in Chiaroscuro and became a man dressed in Delzahn robes with a sword and a dagger on his hip. Kamar was only a few streets away, but this was the closest place where sand was sufficiently unwatched for him not to be discovered.