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Wolves
Snarling, the pack tore after the two remaining tall two-leggeds. They gave a bit of a chase, not because it was necessary but more for a bit of sport before the kill. Finally, the lead male could stand it no longer, and growling to the others this one’s mine, he sprung upon the slower of the two, the one that had killed his mate. The two-legged stumbled as the wolf hit his back. Sharp teeth gleaming, his powerful jaws closed around the man’s neck, severing the spinal cord. The man fell limp, instantly dead. The rest of the pack had taken on the final two-legged, bringing it down without difficulty.
The kills were left lying; wolves did not eat two-leggeds. The alpha male now regretted having anything to do with the short ones; they were the ones who had brung this grief upon them. The wolves trotted silently behind him as he approached his fallen mate. He sniffed her hopefully, but there was no life in her. He let out a long, mournful howl. He was joined by the remaining four wolves in the pack, their voices mingling into a single harmonious song.
Finally, the howls drifted off. Come decided the wolf. These two-leggeds have caused us naught but grief, and they approach the Forest Where No One Dwells. We leave; we hunt the bearers of the two-leggeds. Four were freed. The other broke loose only recently. We hunt.
The song of the wolves changed; their mouths salivated, eager for the fresh meat of horse. The lead wolf set the pace, the loping, tireless gait of hunting wolves. Soon, the only sign that remained of them were five dead men and a fallen wolf.
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