[Child of the 7th Age]

Ned Buckleberry sat on the old tree stump and stretched out his legs. It was very close to midnight, and he'd still found nothing to eat. He tried to shift position to ease the nagging ache inside his stomach. He'd searched since nightfall everywhere in the forest, but had found nothing to slake the ravenous hunger burning within his belly.

The Troll looked about him and cursed. It was all the fault of that blasted wyrm. A great cold drake had come flying by, less than five days previous, apparently on his way eastward. He'd swooped down in the vicinity of the Trollshaws and proceeded to hunt and consume every decent game animal in sight. Ned had run away and hidden for a full day, since even he could not stand up against the attack of a fierce dragon. The only things left when the wyrm departed were a few discarded and half-gnawed bones, plus tiny living creatures like mice and chipmunks hiding in their burrows, hardly the kind of thing on which the Troll cared to dine.

It was then that Ned saw a few embers of flame flicker and die somewhere off in the distance. He'd slipped through the trees, mesmorized by the red gold ashes still glowing in the fire pit, then stared intently out from his hiding place behind a massive oak. He could see a number of Elves and Men lying on the ground asleep, their weapons carelessly tossed down by their feet.

And then he saw them....the stuff that dreams are made of. On the very edge of the encampment, quite a ways distant from the men and Elves, lay a handsome group of plump, ruddy dwarves, just young enough to provide tender meat. They looked to be well fed and in excellent health. Just the thing for a lovely pie and an appetzer or two. Then again, if he got too hungry, raw flesh would do just as well. If he could just knab a pair of them, he'd be sitting very pretty.

But what if the Men and Elves woke up? And, worst of all, there was a dwarf sentry sitting up on a tree stump, carefully scanning the camp for signs of any intruders. Like most of his kind, Ned was not terribly bright, but he was grievously hungry. There must be some way that he could trick the guard, slip in quietly, and carry off his prize before any of the others even awoke. Ned found his mouth watering profusely as he thought with delight of the crunchy bones and layered fat that would soon be his for the taking.