Mid-day and the yellow face glared down on the high hills. At ease, in the shade of a rocky northern overhang, lay the new lords of this region, glutted with meat and tired from the night’s exertions. The wind from the northeast brought chill scents, down from the iron red halls of the wasteland, and they stirred in their dreamings.
Paws twitched and scrabbled against the rocky surface . . . running, running. . . pushing the prey before them. Low growls and the clacking of teeth as they nipped the heels and drove them on . . . then deeper, beastly dreamings of the kill . . .
A sudden breeze from the southwest brought faint scents of the far off river and smells of Men and Halflings. The older Warg roused and sniffed the scents, his nostrils widened as he drew the air in, tasting it on his tongue.
In time . . ., he thought, looking toward his two sleeping offspring, in time will the line of Carchoroth reclaim this land for the pack . . . for the hunt . . . He licked a dark red stain from his grey paw.
His head dropped down upon his crossed paws, yellow eyes shining forth from the darkness. On the wide, rocky ledge below him lay the lesser Wolves, stretched out on their sides, full bellies to the breeze.
His vassals. he mused, They would rest for several days, then hunt again . . .
[ December 06, 2002: Message edited by: piosenniel ]
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Eldest, that’s what I am . . . I knew the dark under the stars when it was fearless - before the Dark Lord came from Outside.
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