A damp mist floated low between the pitch-black pines that surrounded the Black Moon Gorge. It was a night when the air was thick with scents and shadows crawled from beneath the stones and trees. It was there, in the middle of the wild, almost impenetrable forest, that the heroes of the story found their refuge: Luna, a silvery she-wolf with a black patch over her eye, and Sculptor, a scarred old male who never addressed anyone by name. A pack of wolves had inhabited this land for centuries, but on this night everything was different. Some members of the pack felt uncomfortable, other animals slipped away into the darkness faster than usual, and the birds were silent. Luna watched the sky, where the moon seemed twice as big and brighter than usual. Anxiety sparkled in her yellow eyes as the Sculptor approached almost silently. - Did you hear that? - He asked quietly, in a voice as snarling as the rustling of dry leaves. Luna nodded her head. A strange howling - low, trembling, different from the familiar voice of wolves. It resounded from somewhere deep in the ravine, where the ground was seeping black from ancient mosses and where not even wild boars ventured after dark. - 'We need to see what's out there,' decided the Sculptor, glancing at Luna with one glittering eye. - 'The herd is starting to get scared, and if we don't find the answer, fear will crawl over everyone like a cold dawn. The she-wolf moved ahead. She moved between the bushes, careful not to step on dry twigs. The sculptor followed close behind her; although he was now old, he still moved with astonishing grace. After a few minutes of walking, they reached a place where the trees were sparser and the ground seemed to be alive with the breaths of underground springs. There, at the edge of a hollow, they stopped abruptly. A silhouette flashed before them in the moonlight. Something was waiting for them in the shadows, neither an animal nor a shadow moving across the ground. The sculptor whined warningly. Luna felt the fur on the back of her neck stand up. She also felt something else - a faint smell she had never smelt before: metallic, cold and somehow alien to this land. Then a shadow moved out and a soft, melodious voice came from behind a tree: - I have been looking for you, wolves of the Black Moon Gorge.... The two wolves froze, listening to the next words of the newcomer, whose identity they had not yet managed to recognise. What was about to happen that night could change everything they knew.