The wolves ran through this land, the land of his fathers. How he hated the coming. Their arrival portended of much death. He could hear them from his vantage point. Their breathing, och mae, how it was labored. The largest came at him first, as though he had been specifically targeted. This is the night terror that plagued him, he’d dream of Merri, then inevitably the wolf would come. The largest, the black one, was so much more, somehow more fierce than the others…menacing…shiny black fur, glaring eyes, teeth barred…saliva drooling…consistent in his behavior. This animal was absolutely driven in his quest to seek out and destroy Merri. The outcome was always vague. On this night, Garrison slit the throat of the beast. Vengeance was his, the feeling was one of exhilaration yet he sensed that the triumph was to be short lived. More ravenous beasts came, one after the other, each one larger than its predecessor. Garrison awoke with sweat pouring from his body, now it was his breathing that had become labored. Garrison!
Merri I dreamt of wolves, there were many…but it was one who singled himself out from the others. Ah, I should think he be the leader yes? It is he who comes for me every night…and Merri? I know of him. We’ve met…I can sense his bloodlust…as though he is a part of me.
You dreamt of becoming a wolf?
You know naught. I dream of felling the wolf.
The hunt?
Aye, the hunt.
Since when does our clan hunt the predator?
Generally, we do not, that is why these night terrors confuse me…they plague my slumber. Those damned wolves would see me lose the sleep that I require at every days close.
What do the night terrors foretell?
Death Merri, it’s my belief that a war comes to us soon.
Clan wars come, this is nothing new. We fight for what is ours. There is much honor in this.
There is no honor in death.