The boy frowned lightly, standing at the top of a tall pine, looking at the travelers below. They did not belong here, with their strange clothing and weapons that were not like the claws and teeth of the wolves he knew. He sniffed, shaking his head at the scent of strange musk, not like the trees. Who were they, and what were they doing here? They were strangers. 'Should I kill them? Or let them live enough to see what they will do?'

One made a strange noise, and a horrid smell like rotted eagle's eggs that had been broken and set out in the summer sun erupted, nearly causing him to fall out of the tree. 


"GARIK! The next time you're about to release hellsfire upon us, will ya give a warnin?!" 

Garik looked at Arve in confusion. "It was gas, Arve. How was I to know." 

"It's be your bowels, aye?" 


"Then they should be's tellin' ya when they's about to erupt and nearabouts kill everythin' in a radius!" 

"M'apologies. Beans sit not well with me." 

The End

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