By Maradas Graham

Once upon a time, noble reader, a band of knights was formed to protect the borders of the Seelie Realms. The names of these knights are well known to the denizens of the realm, and all have found cause to respect them. For many long years they have kept out the beasts and the ruffians, a task that few others could accomplish, and praise for their names has spread throughout the land of the King. Still, there are only a handful that know the stories of these knights, and could tell more than the paltry, barest of tales, for the knights keep their names closely guarded, and their secrets even more so. Justice, Red Sword, Finder, the Child Knightgreat is their fame, but no knight among them is more revered, and, some would say, feared, than the Wolfhunter.

The Wolfhunter was taken from among the Kings finest, his own personal Knight Guard. Her stony visage and her dangerous temper make her a formidable foe to face, and her skill with a blade is superb, but it is her strange hobby that led the King to select her as the Palace representative to the Border Knights. For many years, the Wolfhunter had spent all of her free time roaming the boundaries of the Seelie Realm in search of the one man she truly called "enemy"; The Lord of the Wyld Hunt, that bestial huntsman, whom she spent every waking moment following. She dare not traverse into the Twilight Realms, of course, for that would be inviting death to dance, but she stalked the outer edged of the realm night and day, slaying wolves that strayed from the Wyld pack, and hoping to catch a glimpse of the Lord himself.

Whether this was a matter of personal vengeance or a matter of pride or competition, no one could say, but even after she joined the Border Knights, the Wolfhunter devoted all of her time to ridding the Seelie Realms of the Twilight Lords straying minions. It was whispered in some circles that she was jealous of the Lord of the Hunt, and envied him his position, but if that was so, then why did the Wolfhunter claim allegiance to the Seelie Court, and not the darker Unseelie? She revealed little of herself, but her loyalty to King and Court was unquestionable. It put the Seelie lands into a fit of questions. True, the Wolfhunter was not so dark as Finder, whose origins were said to lie buried deep in the Unseelie realms, but there was an uncertain sort of strangeness to her that disturbed the Seelie court-folk, who could not understand her rough ways.

It was during one evenings ride along the border of the Twilight Realms that the Wolfhunter finally met with the Wyld Lord for a true confrontation. The night was warm and fair, and the stars burned brilliantly as suns in the sky, for it is never truly dark in the Seelie Lands. The Wolfhunter guided her mount through the foot hills and over streams, searching for the glow of wolven eyes in the dark forests the marked the border of the Realms. Suddenly, from nowhere, the Wolfhunter found herself swept up in a sea of howling, furry bodies, and the entire Wyld Hunt came upon her from the woods. Cursing herself for allowing the pack to so surprise her, the Wolfhunter drew forth her sword, and drove her horse straight into the churning mass of wolves. Cutting through the lupine bodies like a hot iron through ice, the valiant knight destroyed nearly half the pack before they took her horse out from under her, and still, on the ground, she fought on like a starving beast, for to fall to the Hunt is to die.

After a measure of time which seemed endless to the Wolfhunter, and was perhaps days by mortal reckoning (but surely, it was only minutes by the time of the Fair Realms), the Wyld Hunt parted, and the beasts fled, wounded and tails tucked. The Wolfhunter stood victorious amongst the bodies of her foes, and though she bled heavily from several wounds, she let out a thundering yell of triumph. As her victory cry echoes amongst the hollow woods of Twilight, a dark figure appeared between the shadowed trees. Her shout still ringing in her throat, Wolfhunters eyes widened at the form which stood before her. There, amidst the bodies of his fallen pack, stood the Lord of the Wyld Hunt, the Twilight Lord himself, with two wolves the size of ponies pressing close at his heels, whimpering supplication to their master.

The Wolfhunter drew her sword, for she knew that the time had finally come. This time one of them would fall, either the Hunt Lord or her. It no longer mattered to the brave knight who won, only that this fight occurred. She locked eyes with the Lord, and though his eyes glowed yellow like a wolfs, she did not turn her head. Instead, she smiled, and her face was as dark and frightening as his. The Lord of the Hunt drew his weapon, a sword that seemed to burn like flame against the darkened wood behind him, and without a word the battle began. It raged throughout the waning night, and into the next morning, blades clashing like thunder against the quiet of the dawn. Finally, as she knew deep down she would, the Wolfhunter began to tire first. Her parries came more slowly, and her thrusts were less accurate, but still she fought on, for she would die on her feet before she would plead for mercy on her knees.

For whatever reasons a man may have to take mercy on his enemy, for whatever reasons a man can appreciate nobility in a foe that is destined to die on his blade, the Lord of the Hunt did not kill the Wolfhunter that day. These long years past, she had hunted him along the borders of the Seelie Realms, hunted him like a rabbit. He should have been all too glad to kill the woman, but perhaps he saw a kindred spirit in her. When at last the Wolfhunter fell to the ground, too exhausted even to stand, the Lord of the Hunt did not look upon a creature that cowered like a doe, waiting for the arrow. What he saw was a creature who refused to back down, and had only fallen because her body had failed her. Your humble author does not know if the Wyld Lord has a heart, and so cannot say whether this touched him to the heart or not, but the death blow did not come from his sword. For an eternity, the two stared into each others eyes, one hunter to the other, and then the Lord of the Hunt helped the Wolfhunter to her feet. Dazed and reeling from weariness, the Wolfhunter could only fall back when the Twilight Lord hit her across the face with his sharp claw-like fingers. Then, when the blood ran down the Wolfhunters face, the Lord turned and vanished into the forest with his wolves.

The Wolfhunter lay on the ground for a time, then slowly righted herself and made her way to the nearest village. When she gazed at her self in the mirror, she saw what the Lord had done to her. Four long, deep gashes ran down the side of her face, barely missing her eye. It was obvious they would scar, and leave the mark of her run-in with the Lord of the Hunt for all to see. After she cleaned the wound, Wolfhunter made request of a horse, and then rode back to the Kings palace, from when she had come. The she recalled her story to the King, and her fellow Border Knights, who would have met the tale with disbelief had the wounds on their companions body not told them the truth. Perhaps this is what the Lord of the Hunt intended.

After the small mercy shown upon the Wolfhunter by the Twilight Lord of the Hunt, she was never the same. Though she continued to patrol the borders as carefully as ever, she rarely saw a wolf, and when she did, it seemed to regard her for a moment, bow as if in respect, then trot back to the woods. The wolf activity along the borders remained high, but for some reason the trouble never seemed to occur when the Wolfhunter was on patrol. It was as if the wolves recognized the favoured of their master, and perhaps they did. The Wolfhunter never slew another wolf, and finally disappeared from the Seelie Realms all together. It is said that on the night she left, she was seen walking beside a large black wolf, with yellow eyes like moons in his head, and that the two of them disappeared into the forest. She was never seen again by Seelie eyes.