Her sleep was restless that night, under the red full moon above the Moors. A dark dream born out of deep fears or a rare glimpse of foresight, like only once before?
A massive warg was waiting in the shade of tall fir, under a full red moon. Was it the same red moon of this days or one of another month? His dark fur made him hard to see in the shadows and his red eyes seemed themselves to be shards of the red moon. Behind him another shape was even more difficult to see, searching on purpose the best way the shadows would hide him. She knew he was there nonetheless, and she knew a third one was returning.
The massive warg knew as well and growled. “It took you long, Death. Too long. Report!”.
The warg that stepped into the small clearing shaded by the tall fir trees was almost as big as the one who acted in-charge and a horrible, huge, wound marking half his face (and rendering one eye useless most likely) gave it a sinister look, far from beastly beauty and well into the corrupted look of many servants of the Ennemy. The name suited him.
“Perhaps it is you who forgot the use of patience and waiting, Targ. And a leader needs it.. You better learn it again, we will not die stupidly just to spare you the boredom.”
“Careful what lines you decide to cross, young one”, the one called Targ barked. The shadowy third warg was not noticeable anymore. “Report!”
“Their defences are weak.. They hold that camp for so long they went lazy. And the fat snacks setteled in beautifully. Many of them. With only those ridiculously small axes for lumber”. Death’s voice was sounding like describing a delicious meal, with arrogance, sure on his strength and on his enemy's weakness. “We can take the camp.. and feast. But there is plenty fat snacks for more of us and a cheaper victory is more likely with higher numbers in our ranks. Call for the orcs! I know one or two defilers that will take joy in the.. study.. of what remains of the elves. Two were there, with bows.”
“You value that remaining eye of yours, do you?” Targ laughed a mean laugh, ready to defend himself if Death would be foolish enough to take offence and go that far as to challenge him. The crippeled remained silent, hard to read, much to Targ’s disspointment. “Very well, then we make ready for tomorrow!" Targ continued. "Perhaps some clouds will make our life even easier. Go make yourself useful in the meanwhile to the rest, I will call all those needed for this job.”
The shades dispersed like smoke or fog.The dream was so frightening-real that she did not know what to make of it. Last time there was no word, but also the feelings of loneliness and despair of the one in her dream from long time ago echoed deep in her soul. Now the same type of echo - but of beasty crave for death and pain- made her sick. She was unsure what to do, and if she could do anything. This could be only a dream, or something to happen in a week.. or in a year.
