AGAINST A PACK

[Harald 2875]

AGAINST A PACK

 

 

It was a saint's day not much different to any other, yet on this particular day Gwendel had finally been able to find fresh tracks of the Direwolf he had been hunting for a multitude of years. Yet the day did not go as planned, as he followed the tracks he’d pause for a few moments, furrowing his brows he’d see the taxes of the believed lone wolf growing two the tracks of a pack.

 

He drew his bow, climbing up on some rocks close by, as he laid in wait, it was clear from the traces that he had found the entry to the cave in which these beasts would find their resting place. As the night would come over them he kept his eyes set as he could see the frost of his own breath in front of him. And there they were, three direwolf counted. A larger white and scarred in color, clearly leading their pack as they walked before the Vilac. The second brown in fur, slightly smaller than the alpha following right behind. And lastly a younger direwolf, clearly not having reached adulthood yet,  black in color similar to the cold winter sky.

 

He nocked an arrow in the string of his bow, drawing it back as he’d take aim for the brown wolf. His hopes being to rid himself with as many of the beasts as possible before they would be able to reach him. He'd take another deep breath closing his eyes for mere moments before he’d let the arrow fly towards the wolf. A pitiful howl left the wolf as the arrow would enter its neck, it was seen stumbling a little before finally losing its footing collapsing on the ground.

 

He’d draw another arrow, looking towards the two other wolves, yet his gaze could not spot the smaller of the three wolves, only the alpha standing before him as it would start to move towards the Vilac.  Yet as he’d take aim to fire another arrow the younger wolf would suddenly jump him from the side wrapping his teeth around the man's left arm.

 

A scream left him as he’d fall to the side off the rock, moving to get a grip of his axe as the wolf would continue to feast on his arm. he’d send his axe towards the wolfs side, yet the beast did not let go on its grip, thinking fastly he’d slam the wolf towards the stone on his side before once more sending his axe down finishing the wolf off. 

 

He’d stumble to his feet, blood pouring from his arm as he looked up to the alpha as it would rush towards him. He’d keep his already wounded arm before him as he’d raise his axe once more, knowing that this last stance was what would stand between him and life itself.

 

After that he don’t remember to much, most of the final battle was up in smoke, all he remember was a horrible pain before kicking himself back towards a rock, looking to the body of the slain direwolf, his axe having severed its head clean from its body.

 

He tried his best to collect himself, climbing up on his horse, after having been able to tighten a rope around the direwolf's head bringing it with him as he would ride into Petra. As the man entered the city he’d look around at the people gathered in the streets barely holding on before collapsing falling to the ground.

 

Signed,

Chronicler, 

Squire Gwendel Victor Simon Vilac