Untitled (in no particular order)

Merrenwen

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The morning was cold, as expected. It had rained that night, so it was more wet than usual. The sky was still gray, and the thick layer of fog that had settled on the hills blended into the sky. Bran and Sceolan were still sleeping, they can catch up. It was still a little bit dark and I didn’t want to lose the rest of dawn The herds stay around the foothills this time of year, hunting is prime.

It’s quiet as I head up the path in to the hills. It isn’t long before the fog makes it hard to see. Perfect. There is a small lake over this ridge, I’ll find a whitetail there. I stretch as a follow the path, the birds are just beginning to sing. My breathe wisps into the air as I walk.

Then I hear the familiar sounds of Bran and Sceolan running up behind me. They should catch up to me soon. Just then I catch the scent, fresh, they are near. I continue down the path for another minute or so until they finally catch up. Their steps are loud, and so is their breathing. I flick my tail to let them know our prey is near. They are old enough now to know what to do, and they instantly fall as silent as the wind.

Bran looks just like me, the spitting image of his mother. Though he is already as big as I am, he will surely grow to the size of his father. Us mac tíre get quite a bit larger than our cousins the gray wolf and mountain wolf. Bran will be at least eight feet. His long almost white fur is highlighted by light blond accents. Sceolan on the other hand hand looks just like her father did. Dark gray, with a single white stripe down her back and specks of black peppered throughout her fur. She reminds me of how regal he was.

The fog is too thick to see past the tree line ahead, but I hear movement. I motion again with my tail, Bran heads north and Sceolan to the south We break the tree line, I can smell them just ahead. I get really low, ready to chase one right into our ambush. I see the silhouette of a grazing deer slowly form in the fog as I sneak my way closer. I’m seconds from my prey when a shrill howl pierces the air, two more silhouettes pop up before darting off into the fog. As I start to give chase an air land in my thigh. It’s not deep, I’ll be fine, but what man is dumb enough to hunt a dire wolf?

I turn to the direction the arrow came from, and out of the fog I can see three skeletons with crude weapons running toward me. I’ve never seen the undead on this side of the mountain. These skeletons are weak, I’ve dealt with plenty of them before. I charge, ripping at their spines and they quickly turn back into piles of bones. Sceolan quickly joins me, she’s cut but okay. What are they doing here?

We head north toward Bran when we hear him yowl in pain. As we run south we run into each other quickly, there must be dozens of undead following him. We get ready for a fight, the three of us can handle a few skeletons. Then we see it, the eerie glow of the lich's’ lantern. Then another, and another, and another. It’s time to leave. We don’t head west back to our den but instead north toward the lake. The druids must know the corruption has spread, and my friend Wolfsong lives near.
 
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