noble creature soon to die beneath those pursuing shapes. And he wondered if there would ever be an ending to this fight. The thought disturbed him, but he had no more time for thought. He knew that if he was to move, he must move quickly or not at all.
Even as Aramus thought, he slid silently from the concealing gloom of the woodline, gliding undetected across the ridge toward the bloodcurdling battle, choosing without hesitation to stand beside any creature who stood against that dark force.
♦ ♦ ♦
Wounded and weary, the bear stumbled up the moonlit slope, breath heaving in hot blasts from his gasping mouth to cast a frightened glance over his shoulder. Behind him, emerging from the deeper gloom of the trees, he saw pairs of yellow eyes, fixed and hungry. The black shapes that followed moved more quickly then he, sliding as shadows from the darkness, their forms revealing no fatigue, no heaviness as the heaviness that weighed down his legs and caused him to stagger clumsily, pitifully, up the boulder-strewn hillside.
At dusk the dark army had descended from the hills, launching yet another attack upon him and his father. And he had fought bravely beside his sire until the old one fell, struck down by a great lion with eyes of flame.
His courage shattered by his father's death, the young bear had turned in panic, running blindly through the forest. And so he had run since dusk, staggering on and on through this strange land, weary and broken. But his desperate efforts were doomed; the wolves had remained apace with stronger, fiercer ones taking the lead when the closest tired, continuously eroding his crumbling strength, leaving him easy prey for the fight.
Earlier, when the hellish horde had cornered him, he had turned, enraged, and struck sweeping blows with his great, curved claws. Two were crushed instantly, for even in his small frame there resided the awesome, inherent power of his kind. But during the savage encounter he had also been wounded, torn and slashed by the remaining predators who had descended upon him in a frenzy, shredding his dark fur and flesh.
Realizing with searing pain the futility of open combat, the bear had turned and fled as before, knowing that these were no ordinary wolves. Even with the howls that boomed through the night, he sensed that they were driven by some darker lust, some unearthly rage. And as he began to realize more clearly their deeper purpose, an indescribable horror had gripped his soul, a horror that whispered of cruel torment and suffering.
The beasts were nearly upon him again, he saw, with another backward glance. He neared the crest of a ridge, staggering beneath the weight of his fatigue, and ran toward two large boulders that could provide slight protection on his sides. Here, he knew, he would make his final stand. And even as he neared the rocks, he felt their hot breath upon him.
He reached the granite walls and turned, rising onto his hind legs and roaring a challenge that rattled dead leaves and shattered the night. The boldest, largest of the dark horde leapt upon him, and the bear struck savagely, his rage rising to overwhelm his horror. Then the pack was upon him, white fangs flashing viciously in the starlight, dark shapes leaping like shadows amidst the deafening din of war.
The bear defiantly stood his ground, roaring, striking crushing blows with his heavy paws, his last painful thoughts of the father he had lost in the wilderness, wishing the old bear were by his side.
* * *
t hree
A sweeping blow of the bear's paw struck a sadistic shape from the air, sprawling the wolf across the rock-strewn slope. But before the bear could see whether it lived or died, the others were upon him, covering him beneath a swirling storm of white fangs. He struck wildly in his rising fear and panic, his courage submerged beneath a wave of horror that shattered his instinct to fight.
One huge wolf collided against his legs, and the bear
Even as Aramus thought, he slid silently from the concealing gloom of the woodline, gliding undetected across the ridge toward the bloodcurdling battle, choosing without hesitation to stand beside any creature who stood against that dark force.
♦ ♦ ♦
Wounded and weary, the bear stumbled up the moonlit slope, breath heaving in hot blasts from his gasping mouth to cast a frightened glance over his shoulder. Behind him, emerging from the deeper gloom of the trees, he saw pairs of yellow eyes, fixed and hungry. The black shapes that followed moved more quickly then he, sliding as shadows from the darkness, their forms revealing no fatigue, no heaviness as the heaviness that weighed down his legs and caused him to stagger clumsily, pitifully, up the boulder-strewn hillside.
At dusk the dark army had descended from the hills, launching yet another attack upon him and his father. And he had fought bravely beside his sire until the old one fell, struck down by a great lion with eyes of flame.
His courage shattered by his father's death, the young bear had turned in panic, running blindly through the forest. And so he had run since dusk, staggering on and on through this strange land, weary and broken. But his desperate efforts were doomed; the wolves had remained apace with stronger, fiercer ones taking the lead when the closest tired, continuously eroding his crumbling strength, leaving him easy prey for the fight.
Earlier, when the hellish horde had cornered him, he had turned, enraged, and struck sweeping blows with his great, curved claws. Two were crushed instantly, for even in his small frame there resided the awesome, inherent power of his kind. But during the savage encounter he had also been wounded, torn and slashed by the remaining predators who had descended upon him in a frenzy, shredding his dark fur and flesh.
Realizing with searing pain the futility of open combat, the bear had turned and fled as before, knowing that these were no ordinary wolves. Even with the howls that boomed through the night, he sensed that they were driven by some darker lust, some unearthly rage. And as he began to realize more clearly their deeper purpose, an indescribable horror had gripped his soul, a horror that whispered of cruel torment and suffering.
The beasts were nearly upon him again, he saw, with another backward glance. He neared the crest of a ridge, staggering beneath the weight of his fatigue, and ran toward two large boulders that could provide slight protection on his sides. Here, he knew, he would make his final stand. And even as he neared the rocks, he felt their hot breath upon him.
He reached the granite walls and turned, rising onto his hind legs and roaring a challenge that rattled dead leaves and shattered the night. The boldest, largest of the dark horde leapt upon him, and the bear struck savagely, his rage rising to overwhelm his horror. Then the pack was upon him, white fangs flashing viciously in the starlight, dark shapes leaping like shadows amidst the deafening din of war.
The bear defiantly stood his ground, roaring, striking crushing blows with his heavy paws, his last painful thoughts of the father he had lost in the wilderness, wishing the old bear were by his side.
* * *
t hree
A sweeping blow of the bear's paw struck a sadistic shape from the air, sprawling the wolf across the rock-strewn slope. But before the bear could see whether it lived or died, the others were upon him, covering him beneath a swirling storm of white fangs. He struck wildly in his rising fear and panic, his courage submerged beneath a wave of horror that shattered his instinct to fight.
One huge wolf collided against his legs, and the bear
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