![]() Swords, a voice inside him whispered, spears. As the wolves closed on the prey, the warg heard the wailing of a pup, the crust of last night's snow breaking under clumsy man-paws, the rattle of hardskins and the long grey claws men carried. Deer and elk and even hares were faster, bears and boars fiercer in a fight. Big and strong, with good sharp eyes, but dull of ear and deaf to smells. Flesh, the warg thought, meat.Ī man alone was a feeble thing. Ice had frozen between their paws, hard as stone, but the hunt was on now, the prey ahead. The breath of the pack puffed warm and white from long grey jaws. As he ran, he saw through their eyes too and glimpsed himself ahead. As he raced through the trees, his packmates followed hard on his heels. Hate and hunger coiled in his belly, and he gave a low growl, calling to his one-eyed brother, to his small sly sister. Only man stripped the skins from other beasts and wore their hides and hair. ![]() Those were man-smells too, the warg knew the stink of old skins, dead and sour, near drowned beneath the stronger scents of smoke and blood and rot. A sigh of piney wind brought the man-scent to him, over fainter smells that spoke of fox and hare, seal and stag, even wolf. The warg stopped beneath a tree and sniffed, his grey-brown fur dappled by shadow. The night was rank with the smell of man. ![]()
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