Two of his Wolves were dead and one had dragged itself from the fray, bleeding profusely; it too would soon be dead. Dûrêl pulled back, taking stock of who was left. One of the men was dead, and two lay still on the ground. Only the woman remained.
He growled at the last two wolves and they hurried to his side. Heads lowered, snarling, the dark phalanx advanced on their prey. Yellow eyes fixed on the grim faced woman with the yellow hair, as she held her weapon ready.
A sharp bark from the Warg and the lead Wolf broke into a run, leaping as he drew near the lone defender . . .
[ January 07, 2003: 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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