[piosenniel]

They had rested for a while once they returned to their lair. But early in the morning Carchmoroth got them up, saying that the two-leggeds, slow and stupid as they might be, would soon be after them.

The younger Wolves curled their lips at this, saying the two-leggeds were no match for them. Carchmoroth silenced them with a snap and a cold yellow stare. 'Their weapons are sharp and they bite deep and hard. They will fight for their pack as fiercely as will you. We must be wary of letting them sight us, for they will be relentless in their pursuit.'

He paced back and forth before the pack. He could feel the tension and anticipation build in them. 'We will seek them out, to see what they are doing. Were I them I would begin where last we killed.'

He halted in his pacing and motioned to Dûrêl. 'Take five of the biggest males and go south, near the hills where we drove that large herd - the one where your brother left the Men a small token of our esteem for them. Look for the group who will be trying to track us there. Harry them, and engage them if you wish. Kill whom you can.'

He stepped to where Dúgoroth stood, and stood shoulder to shoulder with him. 'We will take the rest of the pack, fifteen males and females, with us to scour the area around the Forest. Some of the searchers will be there. We will drive them back as we can, though I think we cannot kill them all.'

He raised his head and a bloodcurdling howl echoed across the grassy rolling hills of the downs and rang from the rocky ledges of Deadman's Dike. The pack raised their voices with his, and for a moment it seemed the dark spirit of Angband had come again to Fornost.

'Come, Wolves! Let us hunt the two-legs, even as they hunt us.'

And with that, they moved south like a dark swift shadow across the lowlands.