[piosenniel]

Oil and ashes . . .


As the first of the beasts cleared the wall, the smaller birds flew out from the second story windows with their small pouches of oil and dropped them on the wolves. Not all of them hit the target, but splashed on the ground beneath the pack’s feet. And that was alright – the tall men had told them so. The little puddles of oil on the ground could just as easily catch fire from the Halflings’ arrows and make small barriers that would distract the wolves.

Distract the wolves, they would indeed. For now the smallest of birds flew out from those same windows. There were four of them to a linen dish towel, each to a corner. The center of the towel held a light load of ash and cinder from the fireplace.

There were four towel formations which launched their attack against the foe.Soon a number of the wolves were yowling as their eyes were assaulted by the dust and scratched by the cinders.

Wren flew down in a mad dive bomb of the nearest wolf's tail once his load of ashes were dropped. And a number of the other small birds assisted him, much like a swarm of bees rushes in to sting an offending intruder.

There were, of course, casualties, as the great beasts snapped at the small defenders. But many of the little birds were able to find places on the wolves, especially about the tender ears where they could peck and rip at the flesh. And some, though not all of these brave birds survived, were able to grab hold of a bushy eyebrow and peck out a nasty yellow eye or two . . .