The Village of Pranow / PART 1

Dannaar, Ero'ia

Situated against the base of the giant Hon-abrel Mountains was a goat herders' village called Pranow. It was cold most of the year round, and blizzards were frequently heard screaming through the nearby ravines of the foreboding mountains. The villagers stayed clear of the Hon-abrels because blizzards were not all that terrorized within. In fact, there were none as yet who had ventured even beyond the lowest grazing fields just beyond the village. Even the bravest of men were quickly deterred when they were pointed out the large wolves (or as the villagers called them, "direwolves") that would come down to stalk the forest at the edges of those far fields.

There was no need to venture into those reaches... the goats got all that they needed here, the farming was good not far away, and the hunting they did in the woods just north of them satisfied their needs.

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Circa 287 n.t.
Dannaar, Ero'ia

Garst, a boy of 12, was hunched down behind a pranorn bush and peered through its pale leaves at a grove of trees beyond. He was slightly annoyed by the "babbling" of the brook that flowed beside him. It drowned out the subtle noises he listened for. Then there it was! The branch of one of the trees ahead of him shifted up and down. Garst tightened his grip on his wooden sword, and then crawled around his bush.

A branch lower down shifted and so Garst paused. He wished that the leaves of the tree were not so thick, so that he could better see his opponent. He hated that he did not know whether or not he also was being watched. After a brief moment the boy continued his crawl forward.

Suddenly, there was a loud snap! The sound was immediately followed by a yelp and then several cracks! Garst jumped to his feet and yelled his battle-cry as his opponent crashed to the ground.

"Defend yourself, Keftin!" shouted Garst as he charged forward.

The opponent, another boy of 12, curled himself into a ball. Garst smacked him once with his wooden sword.

"Ouch!" Keftin reached out in search of his own weapon. "Unfair! Unfair attack!"

Garst smacked the outstretched hand. Keftin promptly snatched it back.

"Unfair, I said!" Keftin shouted again.

Garst held his sword at the ready. "I told you to defend yourself."

"I just fell out of this blasted tree, you cur!" Keftin sat up and rubbed his sore hand. His shaggy blonde hair hid his eyes as he bent his head and examined his injuries.

"War doesn't stop for fools who fall out of trees." Garst let his weapon hang limply by his side. "If anything, you deserve to die first."

Keftin looked up and flashed his darker haired friend a sarcastic smile. He then winced and said painfully, "I think I pierced a lung."

Garst, the taller of the two friends, reached a hand toward Keftin to help him up. "That is ridiculous. If you had, you would be shriveling up as we speak, and I don't see any shriveling."

"Shriveling?"

"Of course. All your air would be escaping out, leaving you an empty husk."

"And they call us Demrians crazy..." Keftin accepted the help up and then brushed off the little twigs that still clung to him.

Garst stuck his wooden sword through his belt. A thought suddenly came to him. "Hey, we aren't very far from the cave, are we?"

"The Cave of the One-Eyed Troll?" Keftin looked suspiciously at his friend. "Garst, no."

"Oh come on. Don't be so craven."

"I'm not being craven." Keftin defended. "The last time you dragged me there... Oh I don't even want to talk about it." He started walking the direction of the village. "Not to mention that the cave lies deep in The Forest."

Garst remained where he stood. "Hardly 'deep'. It is barely a stone's throw."

Keftin whirled around. "We aren't supposed to go in there!"

The two boys crept slowly toward the entrance to the cave. Keftin glanced around him nervously.

"You're cowardice is going to bring us bad luck." Garst whispered harshly.

"Bad luck is the only companion to those who enter The Forest," Keftin retorted.

They stopped at the 7ft tall entrance to the cave. They lowered themselves onto their bellies and peered into the darkness.

"If our moms knew where we were right now..."

Garst laughed and patted his friend's shoulder. "But think, we will become legends when we return with Blacksmith Jon's mule."

Keftin muttered, "I really don't think that ole' troll kept the mule as a pet, Garst."

"We'll get its bones, then. Either way, it will make us the most talked about boys in all of Dannaar."

An eerie sound, which the boys interpreted as a groan, echoed out of the depths of the cave.

"That's it..." Keftin pushed himself up to leave. "I am going." Just then a something cracked. The sound stopped him in his tracks. He looked down at his friend. "What was that?"

Garst hopped to his feet. "I don't know."

"Well did you see anything down there?"

"It didn't come from inside the cave."

The sound of a stick snapping in half caused both boys to turn abruptly!

To their right, from between two large coniferous trees, a wolf stepped toward them. The boys were too afraid to move. The wolf was nearly as tall as a horse, and its fur was dark and thick. Shades of dark grey and brown could be identified as the beast paused in a patch of light.

Garst instinctively put his hand on the hilt of his play-weapon.

A strange feeling came over Keftin, calming him somehow. He looked over at his terrified friend and said, "Run, Garst."

Garst didn't take his eyes off the beast in front of them. "We will both run... We will make for the Juneg Tree and climb as high as we can... someone will-"

"No, Garst." Keftin said sternly. "We will not both make it. You must run... all the way. Don't stop until you reach Pranow."

Garst looked over at his friend in anguish. "What are you saying?" The expression of resolution he saw on Keftin's face made him even more afraid.

The wolf's jaws parted and a low growl rumbled out of its throat.

"Run, Garst... RUN!"

The beast leapt forward.

Garst's heart skipped a beat and he impulsively bolted into a run. His destination, the village was all he could think about. "Keep up with me, Keftin!" he shouted as he ran. "Don't stop, Keftin!"

Behind him, he heard a scream. His heart leapt into his throat. He jerked to a halt and spun around.

Keftin pounded the beast with clenched fists, but his struggle was in vain. The oversized wolf took hold of one of the boy's legs in its jaws and roughly dragged the boy backward.

"NO!!!" Garst cried! He fell to his knees as he watched the beast jump into a run and disappear into the depths of the forest.