[piosenniel]

Pio’s post

Carchmoroth and his children were the last of their line. The once proud pack of his sires of old had dwindled down to these three. They had tried once before to reclaim a small segment of hunting territory north of Bree-land, but had been driven back. Eight years had passed, but the hateful memories of this defeat at the hands of the two-leggeds were still well banked embers, waiting only to be fanned into life again.

Now they had just come out of a harsh northern winter, and the failed promise of a pallid spring. They were reduced to hunting small burrowing rodents and the very occasional Orc who ventured out from the Misty Mountains. But the Orcs had grown more wary, and the small mouthfuls of ground creatures could not satisfy their hunger.

Once again, need pushed them south . . . to the Weather Hills.