**Prelude**
The rain lashes against Caius’s exposed face, bitterly cold. His unit had been on the hunt for weeks and the weather had been against them the whole time. Rain, sleet, and snow to wear them down, but never a break to recover. They were close though he could feel it. The tracks were fresh and the guides from the village where unusually nervous. The celts were usually made of sterner stuff. Hard to believe some wolf had been giving them so much trouble.
A fortnight prior orders came down from the centurion that action was to be taken. For the past month the legion encampments along the southern Britannia coast had been harassed constantly. Some sort of beast was attacking nearly every night. Men sent out foraging would never return, sentries would vanish from their post, or worse be found torn limb from limb come morning. As one of the most elite decani in the Britannic legionary forces Caius was tasked with finding and killing the monster. Taking his eight men he set out into the pounding rain.