Dûrêl and Dúgoroth sat on a small rocky rise and watched as the Wolves tore into the still warm carcasses of the sheep. They had dragged the five bodies well into the protection of the woods and savaged them with a vengeance.
'Must be poor hunting where they've come from, eh?!' remarked Dúgoroth to his sister. 'Unlike here.' he finished with a feral smile.
'You remember well the northern country where the two-leggeds and their spawn drove us long ago, do you not?' she said eyeing him. 'Nothing to eat but snow and twigs and the half starved crebain when we could find them.'
'Yes, but this is our hunting ground now, sister mine. And when we are done here, we will move farther west and begin again. Soon all the lands will be ours to roam as we will.' He turned his gaze back to the Wolves. 'Let's get them going, they've just about finished up.'
Dûrêl went down among the Wolves and snapped at them, bringing them into line, and hurried them back to where the pack was resting. She turned back once to see if her brother followed. 'I will come soon.' he called to her.
He took the heads from the sheep and brought them to the flat top of the rocky rise. He arranged them, the backs of the heads touching each other, their faces pointed north, south, east, and west. The last he propped nose up, on top of them, sightless eyes looking to the uncaring heavens - for help that was too late in coming.
Satisfied, he turned and broke into a run, hurrying to meet his sister.
[ December 20, 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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