Reluctant Recruit

[Fernlick]

The summer afternoon was fresh and quiet as Fenris blazed up in the blue skies. The clouds were white and few, but they held the threat of a thunderstorm in their movement made slow by the naked eye. The landscape was not as fertile as it had been in spring, but flash floods and wild storms had kept droughts at bay in the land beyond the forests. The Lera were hidden in the shadows of a wood, and one lone figure loped through the many conifers. It was a black hued wolf, it’s thick, shining pelt dirtied with white and gray. He was only a yearling, but his muscles were already completely developed though he was slight and low to the ground. His eyes were a disturbing rabbit pink, and from his mouth bounced a young male cub.

Fernlick was glad to be in the Balkar territory and he couldn’t wait to reach the Meeting Place. He had been keeping up a swift pace over the last three suns and his pads were almost rubbed raw. He had only stopped to put Rokk on the ground and stretch his aching neck, lap at the water, and doze off under the shade of bushes and trees. The male cub had proved a burden, and the extra wait must have done damage to something in his neck. He was tired and ready for sleep because he had been on guard on his few naps in case Rokk crept away, and his stomach was beginning to feel want of flesh, though he could make many more suns without food. He was a wolf with the endurance of his kind, but he longed to be comfortable and to close his eye lids. But there would be no time for that when he reached his pack mates, for the cub would quickly be turned into fun, and no matter how much it bothered Fern he didn’t want to miss out on it.

He stopped and let the cub to the ground, his eyes closing briefly in relief as he stretched his aching neck. Turning rabbit pink eyes on Rokk he grimaced. “The Meeting Place is just behind these trees,” he growled quietly for the cub. “The rest of the Balkar wait for you. I don’t know what will happen, but it won’t be any good for you.” He scowled at his own unease: he didn’t think it showed strength to pick on a cub, but he couldn’t show it for it wouldn’t show strength to hold back. With a flash of his eyes he shoved Rokk into the clearing roughly, stepping out of the shadows behind him.

[Rokk]

Rokk jerked awake as he was chucked to the ground. for the past three suns he had been carried in Fernlick's cruel maw, already his side showed how sharp fern's teeth were, but the teeth marks had scabbed now, and the blood dried and flaking on his light brown fur. when he had ran from Fern and been caught, he had done something to his leg, which meant when they stopped at night, even if Fern hadnt kept awake, Rokk would not have been able to escape.

now, as he was hurled to the ground he looked up helplessly at his ruthless capturer. 'you said before you had never killed another varg. do you really want to be responsible for my death?' Rokk growled. it was a long shot, but anything was worth a try. he yelped as he was pushed forwards, forcing him to put weight on his injured leg - pain riveting up from it, coursing through his body to infuse his head with the sharpness of it.

as Rokk looked about him he gasped, here he was in the Meeting Place of the Balkar, there was the First's rock, and the stench of the Balkar hung heavily in the air. the aroma that would be stuck in his head as he was slowly and painfully killed, he realised, and shuddered involuntarily. however, Rokk's tail was not tucked firmly between his legs, but neither was it raised high and proud. he was petrified to his very marrow. he only wished he was older, and not afraid. but he was a young cub, with no chance of escaping this horrific fate, and no one knew he had been captured apart from the sikla Lufian, who, despite her evidently kind heart, could not save him. he was alone, helpless, and at the mercy of the cruel Night Hunters.

[Serg]

the blazing rays radiating from the fiery orb of Fenris that hung in the pale blue sky fell onto Serg's coal black pelt. he shifted uncomfortably to settle into a better position as he lay sprawled out on the rock. it was a lofty position he was slowly getting more accustomed to. at the moment, Serg did not look like a very intimidating or dangerous creature, but as he heard the approach of another Balkar that had not been lazing in the afternoon sun Serg's ebon ears perked and his head jerked up; piercing amber eyes open and alert as they spied Fernlick, and, he had brought the pack a pup. Serg's lips curled. how he despised pups.

Serg stretched, ridding himself of all laziness and ease and stalked further down the rock, leaping off it once he reached a safe height and prowling a meandering path between the forms of his pack. all his menace and intimidating posture returned from when he had been lying down resting. with each paw that crushed the sweet grass underneath it as it came in contact with the earth, with each step that this wolf took, it seemed as if he was plotting something evil. a menace and an evil shone in his intelligent eyes, and his slow working mind now had only one thing to ponder over - exactly how much, and in what way, would this pup suffer before it finally was sent to the afterlife?

Serg allowed a sly smirk to play on his features as he reached Fernlick and the pup and began to encircle its small brown form. 'well well well Fern, what have you brought us here?' he said, not taking his eyes off the pup for a second. by the way it was standing, it had an injured leg. but that did not mean that Serg would be less vigilant.

he lowered his head slightly so that as his spoke, his sharp white teeth were level with the pup's eyes, the First's putrid breath washing over him as he spoke. 'and what's your name little one? missing your Mummy and Daddy? cause they cant save you now.' he smirked and raised his head in triumph. when the time came, when everyone had had their fun, Serg would pleasure in snapping this pups little neck.

[Lufian]

*The days seemed long and enduring as the sun past overhead thrice in a row, each day making the ground harder and drier...the earth seeming to shrivel up under the sight of it's God of power and strength. Long legs cycled restlessly as it seemed, tail low and head aligned with the faemme's parallel spine. Her tongue hung limply from her parched jowels as the sikla continued forth after the shadow Balkar - stalking his scent and trail for one thing he held dear to her; a cub.

Little had Lufian rested on persuit, fearful of him turning back and discovering her sleeping form only to tare it apart and curse her worthless carcass under Wolfbane's name...fearful that if she slept, it'd be too late and she'd never make it in time to save Rokk.
Due to her lack of accurate sight and hearing, the light grey faemme would often trip of twigs that lay in her path, stumbling over her overly long legs and collapsing in a furry heap amongst the dust cloud she'd create. It had been hard, and painful...though due to the unusual length of her legs, Lufian had managed to keep a good stready pace with Fernlick, falling only several hours behind him.

Eventually the chilling mists appeared over a looming valley as she crowned it's ridge. Looking down, Lufian stepped back slightly, whimpering in fear of what lay before her...the Balkar lands. Though the memory of the past three days swept through her, and with a hang from her head and a deep whine, she pushed on further, ignoring the ache that shook her stomach from hunger.
Creeping through the shadows of tall, dead trees, Lufian slunk deeper into the Balkar's most fearful lands until the scent and sights over-powered all which was happy and familair to the sikla. It was daunting and terrifying for one so low in status and ranks. Though it didn't take her long till the sounds of deep growl and barks over-rode the sounds of cawing crows.

Crawling forward, white underbelly scraping the earth and gathering dust as she went, Lufian peered through the long, dry grassed to see the large First approach young Rokk as he sat...terrifyed yet proud. Surpassing a whine that settled in her throat, she layed low and curled her paws beneath her bodice and watched carefully - planning on their escape, hoping to Tor that no passing male would find her within the bracken..*

[Carcharoth]

It was unusual for sunlight to drop from the skies and leak onto the Balkar's land as the mists that hung low and entwined themselves around the trunks of the dead and living trees was often too thick and impenetrable for it to seap through...however ocer the past several suns, the lands had grown considerably lighter and warmer, rather than the cold, dim atmosphere. However, many males that stalked the Balkar's land were thick skinned and pelted, often with a pelt as ebon as the midnight sky in winter - which only caused tempers to rise further than usual and fights to break out amongst ranks.

Laying restlessly within the Meeting Place, the large ebon male, flecks of silvery white rimming his muzzle, Carcharoth growled deeply as he glared at the others who too lay with their blood boiling beneath their skins. He was bored...restless...hot!
Snarling suddenly he dragged his weight onto all four legs and shook his pelt as if it were a dead lera he wished to tare apart and devour. Muscles rippled at his shoulders and hind quarters as he picked up a trot and began to pad round the edge of the clearing, no reason intended - simply through boredom - the skin below his underbelly sagged in a grotesque fashion - showing his ultimate size and condition.
Though he was part of the Balkar, due to lack of one ear and the use of a single eye which now stared blankly ahead, it's milky aura seeming like a disgraceful star which had fallen from the skies...an angel fallen to earth, his hunting of lera and herla had decreased considerably - forcing him to feed off the carion others left in their paths. However...hunting of varg took less careful matters and was a mere sport rather than neccessary.

The sounds of rustling bushes caught his sudden attention and a single aud flexed aloft his head as his direction turned to that of Fernlick and the young cub he'd brought. Stepping back respectfully from Serg as his large impessive form padded forward, Carch looked down at the pathic cub and grined wryly at it, ivory canines glistening in the golden light that Fernis shone down apon them. "What a pathetic looking morsel the runt is..." he spoke with a deep, demeaning voice. Chuckling darkly he lifted his head and peered through a poisonous green orb, judging the pint-szie cub with amusement.

Suddenly something sounded in the brush behind them and his aud flexed back, diverting his attention from Rokk. Frowning and growling deeply, Carch looked round to the bracken around the edge of the clearing and stared for a time, proud tail flickering with thought. Who...?
Shaking the thought from his mind, the ebon Balkar turned his attention back to the real scene...or at least for the meantime..

[Rokk]

Rokk froze as the great bulk of a great black wolf stalked towards him. his brown eyes widened in fear as he recognised this wolf, it was Serg, the First Of The Balkar. even if Rokk had not have known this wolf's face from the night his father had been killed, Rokk would have been able to guess it from the way that all the other Balkar reacted with him. stepping out of his path, treating him with respect.

'my name is Rokk,' he replied, he could not stop his voice from quivering as he spoke, but as he continued, his voice got a little bolder with each syllable that rolled off his tongue, 'and i dont think that my parents would save me, because you already killed them you see, you probably dont regret it, but you might when i grow up' Rokk whinced at his own stupidity, cursing that his tongue had gotten carried away with him. surely now he was never going to grow up. Rokk gulped, and winced as once again he put too much weight on his injured hind leg. if they were going to kill him, why didnt they just get on with it? because what Fern wanted, Rokk to join their pack, would never ever happen.

ooc - evil post. but, im getting distracted. >.< sorry

[Captain Z]

[glow=black,2,300]

~ Steel blue orbs awoke to see the summer light sifting into the mists and darkness. Twisted deceased trees filtered the blazing heat of the sun, decaying branches casting long, swaying shadows over the ebony figure of the Balkan wolf below. His viory talons extracted deep into the soil below, his head resting on his forepaws.

Rising to all fours, the scent of a foreign youth crossed with the gentle breezes. He smirked slightly, ivory splitting across his maw. " A summers day always finds foolish pups wandering into certain death of darkness." Turning from the scent, he moved silently out to the borders of the Balkan soil, his scent casting away into the winds behing him. His large black figure stepping in and out of the piercing sunlight passing through lifeless branches over head.

A change in the winds brought to him the scent of the a handful of balkan wolves, crossed with the foreign scent of a little pup. He felt the freeze shift eastward, toward the borders. Rustling through his coat, the breeze brushed early deceased leaves off an old maple.Red leaves fluttered lifelessly to the breaks between the trees. Do not think you can wander into my lands and not be discovered. Hasnt your elders taught you that?. His mind taunted, a smile crossing his maw.

He smirked slightly, the scent of the youth brought apon mercy in his blood, yet the playfulness and his cold hearted self gave a cruel tinge in his optics. Stepping into the clearing, his steel blue eyes were quick to notice the little fur-ball finding himself pinned between three full grown balkar wolf. " They never learn." A quiet tone spoke to himself, smirking and padding forward to meet the little runt. His mouth was larger than his brain as he spoke with a cocky tone lining his voice. Yet his form so small, the little fur-ball only had courgage beneath his skin and nothing more. "So we found ourselves a little cub trying to play hero?" Ziev said, a twisted cold tone in his throat.

Stepping back, he watched amusingly as the three taunted the little youth with his life. At the edge of the clearing nearby, the frame of bones layed in a cluttered mess. Between his forepaws, he clawed at a the ivory of the bone of a herla's hind leg. "So who recovered this little beast?"
[/glow]

[Serg]

Serg shot a smirk to Carcharoth at his comment and nodded slowly, 'yes, not much for even the crows to scrabble over.' he growled with an cruel tone as he turned his considerate gaze to Rokk, in his eyes some might decipher that he was musing on how would be best to kill the whelp.

as Rokk spoke Serg snapped his head closer, snarling viciously, amber eyes on fire. he despised pups, but what made this even worse was that the pup was foolish enough to talk. what he hated most was cocky little pups with heads too big for their shoulders with no respect for anyones authority. however the happy-go-lucky playful pups did come in a close second in Sergs stubborn opinion

'thats a foolish tongue you have there little whelp. and i dont have the pleasure of remembering your parents faces in their deaths, and i doubt yours will stay in my memory for longer than theirs did. i was going to end your pathetic excuse for a life quickly, but now you've made my decision for me. my Balkar are bored young Rokk, and you're a pup, you must like games. shall we play for a while?' he growled, a malicious and dangerous smile firmly written upon his maw.

he glanced up at the Second as he appeared on the scene and his eyes flickered to Fernlick, he said nothing, feeling that Fern shoudl speak up and claim the prize for himself, instead of Serg speaking for him

[Fernlick]

//I hope you don't mind the god mode Rokk.//

Fern bowed his black hued head in respectful submission, averting his proud pink eyes from the large Dragga to look hungrily at Rokk. He couldn’t help the feeling of triumph as he began to grin, saliva falling off of his sharp white teeth. He had imagined the uproar this would cause, but he had not realized how proud this cub could make him feel. His grin deepened in sick pleasure as he watched Serg circle the brown hued cub, and he itched to lay into the little thing, no longer caring how much weaker he was. Fernlick nodded eagerly as Serg addressed him. “His name is Rokk sir,” he growled humbly, but his tone was eager. “I tried to get him to join, but-” he grinned again. “He was reluctant.” This was Fernlick’s first chance of proving himself to the Balkar, and he was very pleased that Serg seemed to think he had done a good job with the whelp. He wagged his silk black tail, the pride now evident in his eyes.

Something shadowed the back of his mind and he tensed, his ears swiveling warily as he concentrated. He had a feeling that something was close by, something that shouldn’t be here. He looked around and sniffed the air with a raised muzzle, but he caught no scent on the wind. Fern shook the feeling off, but he glanced around his shoulder suspiciously before grinning at Carcharoth. He already liked this Balkar wolf as a friend. The femur concealed in the woods beyond the Balkar was very lucky that the winds were in her favor.

Fernlick shot angry eyes at the impertinent Rokk, and with clawed paws he hit him hard so that he fell in front of Serg. Frowning fiercely he growled low at the dominance that came from him. He bowed his head to Serg again, showing him the back of his neck respectfully. “I’m sorry sir,” he growled. “It seems his head is a bit big, do you think I should deflate it a bit so it fits his runty body?” He held back a smirk at his clever remark. Fern was young at heart, and not the smartest Varg around, though he was far from stupid: maybe just a little big headed himself.

Turning to Ziev he showed his neck respectfully. “I found him up in a dry place close to the mountains with a Sikla femur; he was picking on her delightfully well. He even got her to submit though she’s three times bigger than him. I thought he’d love to be trained to put his bullying skills to work, but he was…reluctant, so I brought him here.” He grinned in all the attention.

[Rokk]

ooc - eh its fine, no worries Fern


Rokk's legs began to quiver and he looked up at the Second of the Balkar, who he didnt recognise, but obviously he was another varg of authority and he winced at his remark. he wasnt trying to play the hero at all, he was just being himself. he couldnt allow these vargs to reduce him into a cowering little pup who would beg for his life. 'im not trying to play no hero Sir.' he replied truthfully.

however Rokk was afraid, and he trembled as the First snapped his head closer and began to speak, his hot breath causing the fur on his face to dance and Rokk winced at the cruelty of Serg's words. 'i dont wish to play Sir' he said slowly but with all the false respect he could muster into his voice, for he could not force himself to respect these vargs, they werent wprthy of it in his view. he would fear them yes, but never respect them.

Rokk fell to the floor at the merciless paw of Fern before Serg, and he gulped, whining pathetically as jarring pain was sent through him from tyhe impact, and searching pain from his injured leg. 'i may not be the good little pup most cubs are.' Rokk growled after Fern spoke, 'and yes i was picking on the sikla, but i am nothing like all of you, and i never will be.' he said definately. he couldnt help it, he had to say it, they just wouldnt understand, he couldnt let it go. he had to say it. with all his heart and will he would not be recruited into their pack. so being torn apart by their merciless jaws seemed to be his only option, he closed his eyes as the mere thought of it made his stomach churn uncomfortably.

[Lufian]

*The events all seemed to occur so swiftly and Lufian seemed to sink into the earth the further she pleaded to go down, watching and observing each Balkar male that entered the clearing and approached the young cub the sikla was here for; intending on rescuing him.
A large ebon varg with only a single ear and one good eye approached first, after the First. As she'd whined, his auds flisked towards her and she gasped lightly, dropping her head further so that she was merely peering through the roots and branches of bracken to get a clsoer look at the scene. However his attention was then spurred and she sighed with relief, remaining perfectly still as her heart began to accelerate at a tremendous speed, fear coursing thickly through her sikla blood.

Another male arrived, his stance tall and power oozing onto the scene, observing as each of the others stepped back from his powerful gait. Lufian knew that he was not the First, however he was near enough as important. Something odd struck Lufian as she looed at the trio of Balkar surrounding young Rokk. The fact that each one bore a pelt of raven black. It was odd...however this was the exact impression any varg would get of a Balkar male.

A light whine escaped her muzzle, drawing it back as Fern swatted Rokk with his savage paw. Without realising it, Lufian had made a more than audible sound and movement behind the bushes, though still she lay and waited...waiting for the perfect moment to run in and steal the cub - taking him back to the safety of Deor lands..*

((Can you not notice me yet...? Sorry - I have to run but Carcharoth is meant to come in and notice me...we've got a plan sussed out >.< ))

[Captain Z]

[glow=black,2,300]
[ack double post, sorry]

Shreds of the herla bone began to wear off, as the ivory claws of his left continued to tear away at its surface. The winds rustled the branches above, awkwards creaks sounded as they twisted, the shading sifting over the Second, as tiny rays of light broke through the deceased and wilted branches above him.

His steel blue optics remained on the little furball, as the terrified pup seemed to pray for mercy to the three large balkar wolf. " Not even a balkar, and he's calls me Sir." He said softly to himself, a smirk escaping his maw, cold glare within his optics. " You've alot of courage little one." He said to the pup, rising to all fours, and padding forward to the pup.

" And seem to think your a smart one too." Ziev managed to smile shortly. As the trees continued to shift, sunlight broke through, lighting part of his maw, two large marks of crimson could be seen on the left side near his nasal, and they parted with the gleam of sharp grids of ivory. " I'd think you'd fair quite well in a little game, I love to call Hide and Seek." He smirked, lifting his left paw to run his ivory claws along the small neck of the figure.

He turned and padded back to his former spot, and swiped the torn bone into the woods. "You hide, We seek[ It would be very amusing for both you and us."He taunted the pup, a smarl snarl escaping his maw. Yet his mind now pondering if the Sikla lived, and intended to rescue the pup. "You did finish her right?"Hearing an out of place rustle in the bush, but he ignored it, thinking the wind had been increasing its thrust, or switching directions once more.

Turning to Fernlick, he nodded slightly. " Sikla Femur? And what did you leave of her?" Ziev said to the ebony wolf, thinking that the Lacan made a crimson mess of her corpse, somewhat pressuming that she was dead. " Little guy's got no one, he'd fair well with us then. " A small cruel laugh escaping his maw. "I'm impressed Fern."[/glow]

[Carcharoth]

Carcharoth bowed his head in respect to the Second as his flitting form drifted by the overly large male, his aud swivelling here and there so as to listen for others who may be arriving to the scene...another few maybe to cure their boredom. Listening to the young cub's small talk, Carch pulled back his ebon lips into a savage snarl and threw down his head jsut inches from the cub's own skull, snapping his jaws with malice. "You watch your tongue young runt! In these lands there is no mercy given to such snivelling little mutts like yourself!" his voice boomed and slithered off his forkec tongue as he slowly drew back, glancing his emerald orb at Fern and Serg, listening to the praise the First gave the youth.
Growling deeply, Carch nodded to Fern - indeed he had done well. Though almsot no Balkar enjoyed the company of cubs...the games they played were often enjoyed thoroughly - especially with extra blood and guts added to the equations and rules.

Chuckling mindlessly to himself, a rustle in the brush behind him once again caught his attention and he turned his head to gaze into the brushes, a frown furrowing his brow whislt staring blindly at nothing but leaves. Truning his head back towards the trio, he grinned as he was not the only one to notice the disturbance...though Ziev and Fern mindlessly shook it off.
The bulk of Carch shifted as he turned from where he stood and disapeared into the brush behind Fern, silently blending into the undergrowth. As he dropped his form to the ground, the large Balkan pushed his way as quietly as his oversized form would allow for such a small space - it was clear he was no Nightene, Lacan was a position he carried true and proud!
Within several seconds of his stalking, his emerald orb focussed on the young faemme who lay well hidden within the tall grasses and dry bracken. A wry grin spread across his white flecked muzzle as he slunk forward still, stopping not far from her side. "Well well well...what have we here?" his voice breathed, putrid breathe writhing round her pretty little neck.
At the sight of the cowering Sikla, Carch snarled and lunched forward, grabbing her by the loose skin around ehr scruff and dragging her painfully out of the rangled brush and into the clearing, dropping her by the cub's broken side and giving her a single shake before looking up to Serg and Zeiv, then glancing at Fern casually. "I am only guessing...but could this possibly be the sikla faemur that you stole this cub from?" he spoke with cruel, merciless words.
On glancing at Fern, he meant in no way to put down the younger varg - though it did seem that way...it was simply Carcharoth's way of being 'helpful' you may say..

[Serg]

Serg growled ruthlessly, 'oh but you will play. you cant possibly disappoint all my Balkar' he said slyly. 'dont you like Ziev's idea for the game? i do, very much.' Serg growled, his black tail swished joyously in the air behind him, this was going to be amusing. he nodded approvingly at Fernlick.

'yes, he would fare well with us,' Serg said agreeing with Ziev, 'but he wouldnt be loyal if forced into our ranks, and i dont want to have to keep a close eye on this one at all times.' he growled, 'no, our game will suffice, then he can wander whereever he chooses with no one to stop him.' Serg laughed, by wander, the Dragga meant that the pup would wander freely when his spirit decided to wander the lands of the afterlife.

Serg's head twisted round on his neck as Carcharoth announced that the noises he had been dismissing heralded that they had another visitor in their midst. 'so it seems we have another player here.' he growled savagely, 'one who looks so weak and cowardly is so foolish as to follow a Balkar back to his homeland?' he growled, his hackles raising along his back. 'shall we torture her for her stupidity and show her that we will not tolerate unwanted trespassers?' he asked the congregation of Balkar that surrounded the sikla and the pup.

OOC: remind me to post better next time.

[Fernlick]

Fernlick leaned back with a relaxed tail and a pleased expression on his face. Once the pride of List with the arrogant and big head he still savored to be admired by his mighty and feared pack. He really had done well bringing the little, bold cub here, in fact he was probably a natural. He shared the same ferocity as his Father, yes, Fern was good. He became more alert and stood straighter as the second began snarling and taunting the youth. A little chill crawled up his spine as his pink oculars filled with guilt. Fiercely he pushed away the feeling, making himself smirk and snarl, hoping to pass as pleased instead of slightly sick at the thought of what hide and seek could mean. Maybe he wouldn’t mind if it was a grown, capable wolf he was chasing, but this cub was just above suckling. For some reason Fern thought of his Mother and grief filled him, and than he snarled angrily, his lips coming back from his teeth as he saw her black and white pelt and tried to sniff her scent that had long gone from the world. He tried to remember her face, but he could only see her pink orbs glaring into his. Fernlick would not be a coward; he would have fun with the rest of the Balkar. His teeth began to slaver as he gazed hungrily at Rokk, desiring the moment Serg gave them permission to bite into him. The love for his departed Mother always awoke in him hate for the world.

Fernlick’s head shot up guiltily towards Ziev and he felt a sinking dread in the pit of his stomach as he showed his neck submissively towards his better, ears going back and tail lowering. “Th-the Sikla, Sir,” he asked, thinking of her alive and completely intact. “I-I didn’t hurt her.” Shame and guilt and fear took place in his gut and he kept his eyes diverted to the ground, glaring at the debris from the trees littered beneath his paws. Why hadn’t he done away with her? What kind of Balkar was he to let somebody escape him without even thinking of shedding her blood? What would Ziev do to him? The back of his mind pricked in defiance, but it was wasted energy; if he was to be punished for his slip their was nothing he could do about it. “She was only a Sikla, Sir,” he growled again. “I didn’t think it would prove anything if I killed her.” Something horrible sunk into Fern as he remembered what she had shouted at Rokk: “Run to Deor, run!” If Lufian was part of Deor Pack than he could expect them to come and help her fight the Balkar and save the worthless puppy flesh sitting before him. The small Lacan should have spoken, but he kept his maw shut about this piece of information.

Fernlick started and jumped back with a snarl as footsteps charged towards him, but it was only Carcharoth darting behind him into the woods, leaving Fern with raised hackles. He pricked his ears toward the sound and listened carefully: he could make out his large brethren sneaking rather loudly through the brush and dying trees. A severe rustling made him jump again, and he got down offensively as he heard whimpers and startled yips from the dark, and than Lufian was being dragged past him and thrown down into the dirt. He stared from Carcharoth to Lufian, than darted a look at Ziev. “Um, that’s her,” he growled nervously, prepared to be reproved for letting her stay alive. But Serg did not seem to mind, so maybe his mess up would go unnoticed.