McIan
Journeyman
For months the behemoth skirted patrols, adeptly dodging their many clever traps and lures. While nowhere near as intelligent as a human, it was a quick learner and remembered well all brushes with those deadly enemies. Any other wolf, ordinary or dire, would have perished long ago at their hands.
At least its primary nemesis, the wolf-brother in black, did not pursue. He seemed fastened to the now fortified town farther north and did not venture far from it. That one had been a thorn in its side; he seemed to sense when it was near and it had only by luck evaded him thus far. There was no going back to that place ever again.
The creature traveled slowly southward, back toward the place of its beginning, careful to avoid leaving behind any residue of game as evidence of its passing, hoping to thwart the human pursuers. It would not go near the human settlement in the south; it was too fortified and dangerous. Once alerted, the hunt would be on again for it. It had to find shelter elsewhere.
It considered a den within the precincts of the undead city, but some of those foul things disdained and attacked any living thing. Fighting them constantly would simply not do.
It came to the entrance of a large cave and went inside. There were creatures of flame within and in abundance, but they did not attack, recognizing it as one of their own. This, therefore, would become its new home. They would serve as its unwitting guardians, alerting it to any intrusions by the deadly human hunters.
Still, the gigantic wolf was alone and lonely. It felt it even if it did not understand the full nature of grief and loss. It was time, past time, for it to find a new mate. The primal urge for it was becoming intense again. That would be first priority. That, and forming a new family. This it would do if the humans just left it be.
At least its primary nemesis, the wolf-brother in black, did not pursue. He seemed fastened to the now fortified town farther north and did not venture far from it. That one had been a thorn in its side; he seemed to sense when it was near and it had only by luck evaded him thus far. There was no going back to that place ever again.
The creature traveled slowly southward, back toward the place of its beginning, careful to avoid leaving behind any residue of game as evidence of its passing, hoping to thwart the human pursuers. It would not go near the human settlement in the south; it was too fortified and dangerous. Once alerted, the hunt would be on again for it. It had to find shelter elsewhere.
It considered a den within the precincts of the undead city, but some of those foul things disdained and attacked any living thing. Fighting them constantly would simply not do.
It came to the entrance of a large cave and went inside. There were creatures of flame within and in abundance, but they did not attack, recognizing it as one of their own. This, therefore, would become its new home. They would serve as its unwitting guardians, alerting it to any intrusions by the deadly human hunters.
Still, the gigantic wolf was alone and lonely. It felt it even if it did not understand the full nature of grief and loss. It was time, past time, for it to find a new mate. The primal urge for it was becoming intense again. That would be first priority. That, and forming a new family. This it would do if the humans just left it be.