"Are they approaching?" Tingli asked, scratching his beard and looking at the Elf standing at his side, still like a statue.
"Aye." The elf said simply, nothing more needed.
"Bet ya gonna do some reconnaissance then, lad?" the Dwarf said. The Elf simply nods before jumping down from the wall and disappearing into the shadowy twilight.
-------------------------------------------------------
The leaves are coated in blood. Vholrat reaches out and tastes it: the blood of Men. Someone, or something, still lurks close at hand.
A crack. Soft, distant and impossible to hear by Men's ears; but he is no Man. With a gentle movement the warrior conceals himself within the bole of a hollow tree, and there he waits.
Steps are closing in. A warg? A wolf? Hard to tell. He slows his breathing, dagger in his left hand, sword in his right. One defends, the other attacks. Plain and simple.
The steps are getting nearer and nearer. Time seems to hold its breath.
With a rapid lunge, the Elf bursts out from cover to face the enemy. Definitely a warg; the beast turns its head, its maw agape, its fangs glinting in the fading light.
A loud snap and growl greets the sword that poses itself in defense of his owner into the fangs of the monster. The dagger is not so submissive; she finds her way into the eye of the beast. A scant second and the beast drops to the ground, howling in pain. The sword wants his revenge now. He finds the way into the creature's belly and, with a good pressure, eviscerates it.
"Better leave the area quick, the blood will attract more,” the fatigued elf thinks to himself.
The night is still young, and there is more prey...
