For visually challenged writers, the image shows a green hill against a misty, grey sky. Across the top of the hill strides a strangely proportioned figure. His head is bowed and he is carrying a staff.
So the sons of men marched into the unknown. To meet the the Elves and the Dwarves who were gathering in the west. Their journey had begun.
All day they they traveled, the men singing songs of war to keep their spirits high.
Rachel had resumed her wolf form and joined the scouts as they rode ahead to get the lay of the land. She had stopped at a stream to drink from the refreshing water when a cry went up.”Giant on the hill” “No” cried another “It’s Death”
Rachel howled in irrigation and raced up the hill to see what these cretins were making all the noise about. At the top hill she saw the lone figure striding against the wind, striding but not moving.
Immediately she recognised what this was. Laughing inside her head at the ignorance of these scouts she ran down the hill to join them .
Pulling the cloak from the youngest of the men she shifted in to human form and deftly covered herself. “That is neither a giant nor Death ” she said calmly to the scouts as they looked on in awe at the stark figure on the brow of the hill. ” This is a warning mark , my kind erect, these figures to alert any pack of Werewolves that men who hunt us are in this area. We build the figure of a man striding the land with staff in hand, head down following our scent.
The scouts where stunned, then one ventured to ask, “There are men who hunt Werewolves? They actually hunt you, kill your kind?” Rachel looked serious and her eyes flashed, “Yes” she replied taking a deep breath. “These men hunt us but they catch only the weakest , youngest and oldest of us, they do not ever attack any of us that are healthy and strong” Flashing her eyes amber at them she added, “They are cowards.”
The men were stunned by this revelation and ashamed too. “Come said the head scout let’s return to camp my stomach thinks my throat has been cut” So they mounted up and headed back to join the army of the sons of men. The youngest man picked up his cloak from where Rachel had dropped it as she had changed back to her wolf form. As he did he reached out and ran his hand along her back. Rachel froze and was about to turn on him when his words stopped her in her tracks. ” I am sorry for my kind” he whispered, “I could never attack, the young, weak or old of any race.” Rachel spoke to him gently straight from her mind. “I believe you, you have learned a a good lesson today. One word of wisdom, never afford those feelings to a Vampire they are never vulnerable however so they appear”
The young man nodded, and mounted his horse. They all rode back in silent thought, Rachel reading their thoughts satisfied that these men at least we’re on a good journey.
To be continued.
If you wish to read Lisa’s and Rachel’s story up to this point you can find it here.
This is part of Sue Vincent’s Thursday Photo Challenge.