Syn and Torryn knelt cautiously by the source of the weak whimpering that had drawn their attention; a sleek, silvery maned wolf caught by its hind leg in a metal trap whose cruel looking fanged jaws bit deeply into her flesh. Their trepidation wasn’t just caused to the wounded beast, but also due to the large grey wolf who circled nearby; although they felt that both animals could sense that they intended to help. Using a stout branch, Torryn gently pried the trap’s jaws open as Syn freed the wolf’s leg. However, no sooner had the metal teeth left its flesh than it was no longer a wolf, but a stunning beautiful, completely naked, silver haired elf maid. Exchanged knowing looks they exclaimed in unison; “a lythari!” Ytharra’s eye’s fluttered open as the black fog of unconsciousness was burned away by the biting pain that shot up her leg. Frightened and confused, she shot upright to find herself seated in a large tent opposite a wood elven man and a sun elf woman, who’s hushed conversation was startled into silence by her sudden revival, until Syn taunted; “Well look who’s back from the dead!” Ytharra’s biting response was chocked-off by her parched throat, coming out as nothing more than a crackling growl, which prompted Torryn to pass her a water-skin in a much more beneficial gesture. After giving her time to gulp down substantial quantities of the soothingly cool water, Torryn passed over a metal flask, informing her; “You couldn’t drink this while unconscious, but it should heal your leg.” Taking the potion with some lingering trepidation, she realized that if they had wanted to harm her, they’d had the perfect opportunity already, so she shallowed the slightly bitter liquid in a single deep swig, instantly feeling its recuperative magic spread through her weakened body. In minutes, the throbbing pain in her leg faded, as the deep gashes left by the trap’s barbed teeth cleanly kitted themselves closed. Relieved as the pain and weakness left her body, Ytharra smiled gratefully toward the ruggedly handsome wood elf, and sighed; “Thank you! Your friend wasn’t far from the truth. I was caught in that damned trap for two nights… the silver teeth kept me from shifting… I don’t know if I could have lasted much longer.” “Silver teeth?” Torryn questioned, he hadn’t noticed the metal when he freed her as it was covered in her blood. “Then it was set specifically for your kind… or at least some kind of lycanthrope.” “It was meant specifically for me,” the lythari informed him in a bitter tone. “The bastard murdered all my pack-mates… I’m the last.” “Why?” Syn questioned, unable to fathom such an act as intentionally hunting an intelligent being. “Our pelts are highly valued in Waterdeep and the cities of the Sword Coast as ‘novelties’,” she replied in a threatening growl of unveiled animalistic rage. “But lycanthropes return to their humanoid form in death… how could he harvest their pelts?” Torryn asked, only to have the answer leap into his mind; the lythari had to have been skinned alive!