Sunlight shone down through the tall pines. Still early in the morning, the sun hadn’t grown unbearable yet and a gentle, pleasant breeze lightly rustled the pine boughs. The forest floor teemed with various creatures as they scampered around in the morning mist. Deep in the trees, an Irish elk strolled regally through the tall trunks, his head held high. Dew glistened on his mighty rack of antler, sparkling like fallen stars. The elk’s soft, light tawny pelt, also covered in a faint glaze of mist, shimmered in the new light.
Mighty, elegant, and proud, he patrolled his territory, unaware of the keen eyes that watched him from deep within the underbrush a few paces away.
A trio of worgs crouched just out of his line of sight. They had been very careful to keep themselves downwind. They couldn’t risk alerting their prey, for two days of tracking would have been useless. Two of the worgs, one a snowy female with d