[Garen LiLorian]

"...I have to wonder: how long will these devils be satisfied with just killing sheep?"
Ned came out of his dream world with a thump. That wasn't the way the story was supposed to go. Threaten, yes. Bully, maybe. Otherwise he couldn't save the group, and that just HAD to happen. But actually kill? None of the books Ned had read ever dealt with that sort of thing. He began to formulate plans in his fertile little mind.

Maybe they could all hide in one tree, then, have the wizard throw fireballs down at the Wargs. That was the approved way of doing things, Ned had it from the best of sources. Of course, he didn't have a wizard. That was most inappropriate. He frowned. Maybe they should let the sheep be captured, then follow them to their lair, and run around singing songs and poking at them. Did Wargs take prisoners? Ned couldn't remember, but if they did, he was willing to bet that they weren't of the sheep kind. He wondered how many Wargs there were. He ran briefly through some other schemes he'd read somewhere, but none of them seemed to fit. He heaved a sigh. He guessed he'd just have to think of something new.

He heard Fin and company over by the door, talking about hiding in the trees, or maybe hiding in sheeps wool, and using the sheep as bait. This last appealed to his sense of romance, but a clear thought somehow penetrated the customary haze around his brain. "I don't think we can afford to lose any more sheep," he piped up. Everyone looked around, to see who had joined, and were mildly surprised to see Ned, looking a bit nervous and flustered. "Um, what I mean to say is, if these Wargs can carry off over a hundred and fifty sheep at one meal, well then, there's either a whole lot of them, and they'll just spring any trap we set, and laugh at any attempt we make to stop 'em, or they're really full, and they won't feel any need to attack again. They can wait for us to get bored, or start setting picket watches before coming back. We can't stay awake all night every night for the rest of the summer." It was amazing. Ned watched as his tongue, utterly independent of any controlling impulse, blithely spewed out problems with the plans that the others had concocted. "I think," he concluded, as the others looked on in amazement, "that we need to search these creatures out. Track them down, and don't give them a chance to attack again. Bree can't afford another disaster like this." He realized what he just said. His knees began to shake. "Or... not..." He trailed off lamely.