Roth padded silently toward the smell of live chickens. Even though she made no audible sound the hens became restless. They are not foolish birds, they could sense evil in the night.
Ragnarok circled round the shed in the opposite direction. He would work with Roth willingly enough if their was a chance of a warm-blooded feast.
The poultry began to clammer. The nostrils of the wolvern creatures flared at gaps in the closed shutters or below the door. The building itself was sturdy wattle and daub, like many of its kind. They could not gain entry at present. All was shut up tight. Ragnarok growled softly to himself. He listened to the disturbance the noise of his growl had made within the shed. If it had been light something akin to a smile would have been visible along his wet lips.
Nimue had brought the two pups close but still seemed unwilling to be involved. It was best she kept them back, they could make an inopportune noise and disturb the Warg's greatest fear. Those who walked upon two legs, the creatures that tamed others. The Wargs were not for being tamed. Everything that had blood within its veins, whether hot and pumping or cold and still was food to the Warg.
Ragnarok took a look at the glow from the farmhouse window. They were far enough away to take a little, hunger-motivated risk. A quick snap of a bark told Nimue and Roth to keep watch in that direction. He lept lightly onto some bales of staw that stood idly by the side of the shed, covered in snow that rendered them useless for dry bedding. From there he made a second leap onto the roof. In his youth when caution was not something he cared for he had done this several times until an arrow caught him in the flank for his pains. He still carried a fragment of the tip in his flesh to remind him to be wary.
Mounting the snow coated thatch was tricky and he found he slid several times before gaining a purchase on the ridge of the shed. Below him the fowl grew hysterical. He looked again toward the house. No movement: the winter wind was in his favour. He dug away the roof snow like a common dog until he exposed the reeds. He glanced again, he hoped the she-wolves kept watch as he had instructed. Steadily he began to bite, pull and dig away at the thatch. The hens below seemed to shriek in panic. He opened up a gap and could see hectic movement below him. He snarled with pleasure. Ragnarok was almost upon them.
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Auriel
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