'Twas a gloomy night in the Northlands, when I was but a young adolescent beast. Now I am in late adolescence- this was, indeed, quite a while ago. The waves pounded on the shore, the wind howled, and I had no shelter. I was with a friend of mine, a young weasel named Alth. She was near death-we had been traveling for days with no food and no water. I was in better shape, but not by much. We managed to gather some dried grass and find a small overhang near the shore, hoping we could start a fire. We got one going, but the wind extinguished it. Again and again we tried, but it was in vain. Suddenly, we heard a sound above the wind and recognized it as the battlecry of Salamandastron. Instantly after, a huge badger grabbed Alth by the neck and flicked her once, viciously cracking her neck. The huge hares behind him laughed cruelly at the sight. He went after me, but my speed enabled me to get away. I vowed that day to get back at those "goodbeasts" that unfairly murdered my friend and thought it was funny, all because of her species. And I always keep my vows.