I love the rain. Not the drizzle that feels like a heavy mist, or the piddle of water that makes 
you wet, but you can hardly see. Not the rain that gives big drops that fish jump out of the water for, 
those are the days the world cries. No I am talking about the torrential rain. When it doesn't come down 
in drops, it comes in sheets. It is real water pouring out of the sky. You can feel it barreling out of 
the clouds like exploding from a fire hydrant, coming down and pressing on your shoulders. You can almost 
hear Mother Nature say, "What's wrong? It is just a little water." with a smug look on her face like she 
pulled a joke on you. 
	It is nights like this I like to roam the streets. I can go almost anywhere I want and no one will 
think anything of it, just a guy trying to get out of the rain. It also never ceases to amaze me what 
humans will do to perpetuate their lives. I don't mind the thunderstorm, it is like me, sliding in and 
out of places unnoticed, forceful when needed, and uncaring of the mortal world. Humans will brave this 
storm just to keep their lives going, go to work, smoke a cigarette, visit their sister, whatever. Their 
lives are so finite and they never stop to enjoy anything. They consider it one big annoyance to push 
through to get to the end of the day so they can get up and do it again tomorrow. 
	I look up at the sky and let the rain splash on my face, run over me and try to see how far up I 
can see the rain drops coming from. Even in the dark I can see droplets coming from several hundred feet 
up. Nature was a wonder. It finds a way. No one completely understands what the way is, but nature knows 
and that is enough. 
	I adjust my collar and pull it up closer around my neck. I am not bothered by the rain in the 
least, but small details like this are what keep the mortals thinking that I am one of them. They are 
quick to notice any discomfort that they feel and think that you do not. There are other creatures out 
there as well that pay attention to those small details. Creatures that may coexist with and look like 
mortals, but are definitely not human. 
	A quick look up the street and I see one such creature, my quarry. This is as close as I have 
come to her in a month. She has been hiding here in Seattle for a long time and causing problems, mainly 
by eating its inhabitants. She is a succubus, an eater of souls, and she can change her looks at will 
to any shape of female that she chooses. This makes her a little more difficult to track down.
	It is the rain that brings her out tonight. The same reason that I prefer the rain, she enjoys 
the rain knowing that tracking her is extremely difficult in this weather. It is hard to see and her scent 
is pounded to nothing in the gallons of water falling from the sky. There are other ways to track one such 
as her, and I am confident she will fall tonight. 
	I caution myself remembering the last time we tangled. I will not let doubt and second-guessing 
poison my thoughts, but I have no illusions whatsoever that she is just as  intelligent as she is strong. 
Being humbled is part of the learning process of life and this creature taught me this lesson well. She 
looks like such a frail thing and I know that I am not chump change, but here we are. She is still alive, 
and I am chasing her again and bearing more scars than before.
	I feel the rain kick up another notch, and I see her go down an alley. Following casually, I move 
into the gloom between the two buildings. I notice her immediately standing in the middle of the alley 
looking at me as I approach. Her stance is a little wide with the hips a little to the right, a fighting 
stance.
	"I don't have time for you tonight Ursidae. I want no problems with you." The succubus was bold 
holding her ground like this. 
	"You are feeding off of my town."
	"I have been for years and you haven't said anything before now."
	"Come now, you haven't felt me behind you at all? I have been hunting you for two years now."
	"I have felt you, you have been close. Close doesn't count."
	"We have a history, you know. Two decades ago, you almost killed me."
	Her eyebrows furrowed as she looked at me closer through the downpour and then those same eyebrows 
shot up as she finally put the face with the past. 
	"You! You bastard, you cost me years of energy trying to defeat you and then you ran away like a 
coward! You know nothing of battle or tactics. You are nothing but an animal!"
	I couldn't help but smile. A few decades had passed in this world since we had fought, but I had 
spent sixty years in a quantum penal colony due to a nasty accident. In that place ten years passes while 
only a day passes on Earth, and due to the atmosphere, you don't age. There have been convicts there for 
hundreds of years. Those are the tough ones. In a place like that, battle will either kill you or season 
you and I will still standing. 
	"Come then, this should be an easy fight for you. There will be no running this time."
	Snarling, she charged, pulling what looked like a short Billy club or baton from inside her coat. 
I had not known about or experienced the versatility of a Cron Stick the last time we fought, but I have 
since had time to learn. This time I will not underestimate that weapon. Pressing a button the baton 
extended to the size of a baseball bat while she was in mid-stride.
	I pulled my weapon from my coat making sure the flowing tails of the trench are out of the way. 
I hate the stereotyping that comes with a trench coat, but I have to admit that it serves its function 
well. Hiding a large weapon in its folds is not even remotely difficult which is necessary in this type 
of situation. 
	Even with all of the technology of today I still favored the medieval styles. These were people 
that fought for decades, centuries even. Time has a way of weeding out bad ideas when it comes to warfare. 
When lives are lost, you get rid of the bad ideas quickly.
	I am very proud of my weapon of choice. It is unusual and unique, a mix of medieval and Mohican 
Indian with some modern updates. Three feet of Black Locust wood shaft, slightly flattened, with the last 
foot flaring and angled. From a distance it looked like a rifle made of wood. At the point of the angle was 
a knife like blade made of high-grade Swiss steel. The edges of the wood are covered in a special fiber-
glass resin to prevent splintering, although the wood is hard enough it is unlikely, and there is a steel 
rod that runs through the length of the weapon giving it extra strength and an unexpected heft. Weighing 
47 pounds it is not light, but it was made for someone like me. I hold it up with one hand with the 
succubus picking up speed. She is coming very quickly with the Cron Stick held low. 
	"Time to meet your maker Demon! Ursa! Ursa!" the battle cry erupts from my lungs.
	There is always a tension in this moment, right before a battle. It sits on top of your stomach 
like a tiny hand that squeezes, just to remind you that if you lose, you are dead. Then there is the ring 
of metal as attack and block meet at you are lost in the void of the fray.
	The first few blows are made with a quick fury of energy and then the succubus takes a second or 
two to size me up. She was not expecting me to block everything and now has to reevaluate strategies. I 
was again reminded of the strength she possesses. My hands were tingling from blocking the blows and she 
had managed to back me up a few feet, which is very unusual for me. Keeping in mind some of her own battle 
tactics I had seen, I prepared myself for anything. She seemed lost in thought for moment and then she 
started grinning. 
	As she took a step closer she changed forms, this time a short squat women, and came in low with 
the Cron stick, knowing with my size I was not as nimble on my feet. I blocked and saw an opening and 
kicked at her knees while avoiding another blow at my legs. While I was in mid-kick she changed forms again
to a tall lanky woman and my foot struck sharply against her shin, giving me a jolt and her a painful, if 
effective block. 
	This was going to be interesting. I had never seen tactics like this before, but there was no doubt 
that they were effective. All of a sudden I had an idea, but it would require some acting on my part to 
pull it off. 
	"You are nothing little woman. Come on, is that all you have?" I start laughing at her. The change 
is visible. You could see the expression in her face state that before I was an annoyance to be dealt with, 
now it was war. No woman likes to be scorned. Inside my head I was chuckling in a different way.
	With this set up, we both pour it on, blow after blow, faster and faster. I keep egging her on, 
making fun of her, controlling my movements to appear like I am not trying too hard. She needed to thick I 
was a brute, a fighter who pummels his foes and believes that is all that is needed. The succubus was 
wicked fast, changing tactics often and although I was taking some hits on purpose knowing they would heal 
in a minute or so, she got in a few that were not planned. I was close to the risky part, and I hoped that 
I could maintain control enough to pull it off. 
	I continued to taunt and then I really let the wit flow. I was almost wincing myself as I heard the 
jaunts. She found a new energy and came in like a whirlwind. She came in so fast that several blow landed 
right after one another. The soul eater seeing she was making some headway poured it on even faster and I 
took even more hits, loss ground rapidly. It was at this point that I lost it a little. In a frenzy that I 
could not contain, the rage raced through me and I felt myself grow. Fur sprouted from everywhere and my 
size and mass increased. I let loose a roar and the city went quiet for a moment. My face shifted, growing 
a muzzle and stubby ears moved around the skull. I still stood upright, but now I was seven feet tall. Even 
considering my size, I maintained manipulator control on hands and feet, I could still use my weapon, but 
I obviously showed my grizzly bear side in this half-man form. I let loose another roar and charged.
	The succubus laughed at me this time and turned into a young teen, reducing her size. I swung at 
her wildly missing her as she twisted the Cron stick to expose the blade mounted on the end, turning it 
into a short spear. Her expression changed and it was obvious that she wanted to end this. 
	My change was a little sooner than I had planned but it worked out. It was definitely believable, 
because I really had lost it for a second, but I needed to maintain the perception of a frenzy if this was 
going to work. 
	Screaming in anger at the sky, I held my weapon at the ready and was swinging before she was even 
in range, totally out of control. She came in methodically, cutting, slicing. Finally, she felt like she 
had the upper hand. The succubus was making broader strokes, not readying her weapon as quickly and not 
looking at my body language. She was holding the Cron stick with both hands and pulled back for a deep 
stabbing motion when I made my move. 
	A quick side step to my left brought me close to her right hand side and I grabbed her weapon in my 
left hand and braced my feet. As she went to stab she found that I was not budging and was holding her with 
one hand. As her eyes went wide at this show of strength, my right hand punched through her chest. Her 
heart was there and I gave a quick tug and it came out easily. There was no blood, and she crumpled, 
falling at my feet. She was still very much alive, snarling and gnashing her teeth, but other than that she 
could not move. 
	The plan had worked. Never assume anything, was the ultimate lesson I had learned in battle. It will 
get you killed. Now came the part that I am not fond of, taking a life. I am supposed to be fighting for 
life, protecting me people and my territory, even if the populous didn't know. Just like my ancestors before 
me. I truly love battle, but death was such a waste. If the succubus could have used her powers 
differently... well such is the nature of things. You couldn't expect scorpions not to use their stinger, it 
just wouldn't be fair. Some creatures are inherently dangerous. 
	Changing back to human form and pulling my hatchet, I lifted the blade to strike. The succubus, 
fighting to the end started changing forms as fast as she could. Flickering from woman to woman, short, 
tall, fat, thin, just flashes. It was too fast to see, so I just brought the hatchet down as hard as I 
could. The blow blasted through her and I heard the ring as the steel hit the concrete. Her face went slack 
and she returned to her natural state, a pasty complexion with features that blended together. She held this 
for a second or two and then she seemed to melt in the rain. In a minute there was nothing left and the rain 
washed away all the residue so it was like she had never existed. Even her clothes were gone. Looking down 
I saw the Cron stick and picked it up. If she left it behind, it was important enough to keep. 
	I stood there for a while. After all the time that he had spent tracking her down, it all seemed 
anti-climatic. My wounds healed, as I let the rain wash over me, hearing some of the life returning to the 
city around me. The humans continued on with their lives not knowing that a battle for their protection took 
place amongst them. Taking a deep breath I walked back out into the city, proud of the accomplishment I had 
made this night. Proud for myself, proud for our kind, proud for Ursa. I said a prayer to Ursa thanking her 
that she had watched over me this night. A prayer that all of us knew. 

We are your watchers
We are your warriors
We are your cubs. 
Mother Bear Watch over us and guide us
As we watch over those under our care. 
May all of our hunts be for your glory
And may the unrighteous feel your wrath through us. 
Let all of evil know, they will not be tolerated
We wield your power with your blessing. 
Your watchers
Your warriors
Your cubs.
Foontaga foontaga coalbradin Ursa!
Foontaga foontaga brodsitan Ursa!