Armed with only a tightly woven net, a few empty bottles, and a sharp, toothy grin, Balthazar stalks and watches his prey through the camouflage of leaves and shadows late at night. The faeries, unaware of Balthazar as he enters their precious realm, stand guard in the trees. Their little city is full of life and joy. Balthazar cleverly cloaks himself in their midst, becoming a shadow among them, a dark ghost. They don't hear or see him, as they are all carelessly fluttering about like faeries often do. Suddenly, the hair on his back rises, his eyes turn red, his sharp teeth reflect the moonlight, and, with a leap and a swoosh of his trusty net, he bags several prize faeries at the same time. The lucky ones flee as fast as they can to the tops of the trees. They can only look on and wonder who this beast is. Quickly, Balthazar pinches them his open bottles to shake the confusion out of their wings whilst they look up at the evil, greedy, grinning Balthazar. Each faerie takes a deep breath as the Lupe seals the bottles ever so tightly.
As he stops and looks up into the trees that are twinkling with the faeries that escaped his net, he lets out a long, echoing howl, frightening the faeries once more. Balthazar knows he is done for the night, sensing that the faeries are vanishing deep into the forest. Showing them where they belong, he tells them what they need to know—that he is a Lupe who hunts through the darkness, ever on alert for a faerie's fading light.