The wind dropped and with it the sound of the carnage in the hen house carried to the farm house. Roth yelped loudly, the scent of man filled her nostrils. All the wargs turned toward the building to see the yard illuminated by an orange glow. The back door had been opened.
Ragnarok pulled himself up to his full, massive height and glared at the females. If they thought they could challenge him for power let them show their mettle now. Ragnarok was well fed. He felt strong. This night he would not run. He would face his fear of men.
Nimue ushered the pups, sticky with the blood of the fowl, behind the wall of the hen house. She growled at them softly. It was a warning to remain where they were placed.
The farmer staggered out into the yard, calling to see who might have disturbed his hens and muttering about 'cursed foxes' but the Wargs took no notice and stood as three against him. Ragnarok centrally; the she-wolves on either side.
He slipped slightly on the ice as he held the lamp high to see. Six yellow eyes were fixed upon him almost level with his own. So transfixed was he by this it took him several minutes to register that the snow all around him was dark red. His chicken shed was almost destroyed and his poultry, torn to shreds at his feet. A single gust of wind blew feathers and not snow across his path. Still he stared at the blood stained Wargs. They seemed unreal to him.
Ragnarok opened his mouth wide and the yellow latern reflected the shine of his teeth.
Fear gripped the farmer and he turned to run back. Too late. To turn your back on a Warg is foolish indeed. They were upon him in seconds. His screams so loud the neighbouring farms ran to their windows, seeking out the source of such an unearthly sound.
They were not alone in hearing it. Close to the forest fence another depleted pack, persuaded by hunger to stray close to agricultural land stopped and listened. Their leader, a young male howled in hope.
Ragnarok stepped back from the farmer's corpse. Nigh on his whole head scarlet from the murder. He turned his head to one side, a move in echo of a domestic dog and listened. Had he been mistaken? The winter wind had almost fooled him before. No Ragnarok was not mistaken. Another wolf howled to him. He barked at the others and the now revealed pups but they were absorbed in a feeding frenzy that even he could not draw them from. Nimue was nearest. He dug his teeth sharply into the scruff of her neck and dragged her off what remained of the farmer's carcass. She snapped at him but soon heard the sound too.
Ragnarok sat back upon his haunches and howled in reply. It was a cold and frightening sound, more chilling than ever the winter's weather. The wargs had arrived amongst men.
[ January 18, 2003: Message edited by: Auriel Haevasawen ]
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Auriel
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