…Victorious Balwyn feasted, not knowing the vile Vilkai stared at the visitor from secret vantage places
The pack progressed, ready to pounce on their un protected prey,
Razor teeth ready to rip and tear, driven wild by the reek of roasted flesh
The host howled and hurried upon Balwyn, who hit at them helplessly without his axe.
All was not lost, for the Vilkai lunged longingly at the roasted beast, allowing Balwyn to grasp a lit log
Wielding this new weapon, Balwyn waved it with wide sweeps and a wild roar
Balwyn kept the killers back with kicks and a keen swipes of his fire kissed weapon
On and on they struggled, the Vilkai offered more opportunities with each onslaught
As the fire turned to ash, angelic Lôm peaked an arm at the tops of the trees
In the silver light Balwyn drew his skinning knife, swiping and slashing to sever the heads of the invaders.
Except the Vilkai escaped every attack, encircling the lone Balwyn for the end.
Recognizing he was beat, Balwyn broke past the beasts with a burst
Leaping for his life, Balwyn fled, the Vilkai pursuing lazily to see how long he would last.
They could trek tirelessly, taking their time to finish off worthy prey.
Balwyn ran and ran–Gaal rose and fell twice, the Vilkai pursued ready to rip at his heels
As soon as he stopped—So Balwyn sustained his steps
Pressing past exhaustion and piercing pain, when lesser beings would have perished
Finally the footrace was forced to finish, a mighty flood barred Balwyn
Winded and worn, Balwyn washed and waited for the pack to surround him and win
Diminished by the drastic distance, some of the dreaded Vilkai had disappeared—
Still many had made it, more than a match for the much-reduced warrior.
The creatures converged on courageous Balwyn, ready to claw and consume.
Hopeless Balwyn howled with a half-Vilkai heart and hurled himself
Into the water, icy depths instantly igniting a new pain in Balwyn as he went under…