Ascending through the passes of the White Mountains the air became cold and thin...The Ered Nimrais peaks had held back many threats to the land, but this intruder into the lands of Morthond was never deterred.
Sweeping through the heights it simply gathered speed and strength until it leapt over the highest peak announcing its arrival as a peal of thunder to all in the vale of Erech..
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Far below the tiny figure of a young shepherd felt the cold chill of the storms arrival.
As the first of the rain fell heavily into the ground around him he huddled the best he could manage under his broad rim hat. Drifting back into his memories that warmed him against the cold night air.
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In the long grass he risked raising his head enough to Smell the air, it was clear the flock was close....the hunger had to be tempered with caution, this wolf knew his meal would be guarded.
The sheep gathered together for warmth and security in view of their shepherd, Their bleating soon gave way to silence as the rain fell faster and harder.
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Shivering against the winter cold he watched his flock through the wall of water running off his hat,
Once again his mind wanders off as he starts to count them........ “One, Two, Three, Four, Five.......”, The thunder of the rain brings to his thoughts the waterfall they often swim at...The laughter of friends fill his thoughts as a sharp gust of cold air pulls his mind back to the task at hand....”Six, seven, Eight, Nine, Ten.......”. He always complained to his father when he was told to night watch...but secretly he relished the time alone.......
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A long rumbling thunder accompanied the flash of lightening that lit the valley for a moment....The wolf froze, waiting to flee if it had been spotted. The sheep bleated a little before settling again, the shepherd remained motionless and seemingly oblivious to the hunter’s presence.
The wolf approached from downwind to disguise his scent....he resisted his hunger as the aroma of the flock almost overcame his senses....slowly crawling toward his meal he began to select his victim, his eyes focused on the closest.....the young shepherd boy.
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“Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen........Fifteen......” , His home life was not harsh or difficult....he enjoyed the time he had with his family....but....He felt most comfortable alone.....”Sixteen, Seventeen........”
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The heavy rain pounded the ground all around making the grass slippery...He would have to get closer, or the guard would have a blade in him before he snapped his jaws shut. Crouching down flat on its stomach the wolf edged closer....
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“Eighteen, Nineteen........”, A smile came to his lips as he relived his day with Trish...
“Don’t do that” she pleaded with him in her hushed voice she saves for when she dislikes his behaviour....."you know what the guard will do if he catches us”....
Laughing at her concern....”well, if he was on duty instead of ....helping Mrs Horndell....... I could not do this could I?”.. And continued to pluck the feathers out of the helmet.....
“There....all done” he announced in triumph placing the helmet on the scarecrow head.
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SNAP!!!!....the blood curdling howl of the wolf echoed across the vale panicking the sheep that scattered in every direction. Startled out of his thoughts the young boy rolled away from the attack, his legs aching as stiff muscles fought to lift him to his feet. It was a futile gesture as he had been sitting still too long....Knowing his only chance of living was to protect his throat, he curled into a ball and waited for the inevitable pain.
The howling continued for what seemed an eternity before the boy realised the wolf was in agony....He lifted himself off the floor and cautiously looked over the rise. The wolf lay in a pool of blood, its leg almost torn off by the bear trap he had set.
The once dangerous hunter looked up with impassionate eyes........he knew he would see no more dawns as the shepherd boy drove the sharp stick into his heart.
