Miles from the hobbits another pup had perished. It was one of Nimue's and for the whole day she had been distraught. Her head bowed and her eyes empty. She staggered behind Roth and Ragnarok.
They had tried to devour her child, the hunger upon them was so great but she had stood astride it's frozen form and howled in agony. Even Ragnarok did not take her on. He knew it was no challenge to his authority. He would merely remember where it lay and if no other creature claimed it once they had bedded down for the night would come back and take it for himself. It was no longer his son. It was a meal.
They had skirted the edge of civilisation for some time but no animals had been left out in the fields since the sheep that Roth had taken several nights ago. They survived upon carrion: the bodies of others who had perished in such harsh conditions.
As night fell Ragnarok barked sharply and nodded his huge head toward the orange glow of a lamp, hung upon a hook. They stood recklessly close to some farm buildings. Their hunger had brought them into the world of their enemies. They could smell and hear the livestock. A chicken coop was just a few bounds ahead of them. Roth padded forward and looked about the yard, illuminated by the lamp. Nimue was still despondant and unwilling to join with them. She held back with the two remaining pups.
They were starving. They had no choice. They had to attack the farm.
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Auriel
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