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Great Northern Gray Wolf Pack #1 | by Gary^The^Procrastinator
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Great Northern Gray Wolf Pack #1


The Great Northern Gray Wolf is one of the most fearsome predators in the land. As big and powerful as a lion, they roam the forests and wastelands of the North in packs of three to five, overwhelming any prey they encounter. Fortunately for the people in these lands, they do not care for human flesh but prefer deer, herd animals, and above all, fattened livestock...which was most unfortunate for Farmer Madeg’s prized milk cows.


Sir Caelan Munro stood poised to strike in case one of the three powerful wolves suddenly lunged forward. They clearly wanted beef for dinner, but since Caelan and his friends had just labored hard to recover these cows from outlaws, and the village they belonged to needed them badly to make it through the coming winter, he’d rather not give them up just yet. The great wolves growled impatiently; they wouldn’t wait much longer for the humans to clear out.

“I believe a very wise archer warned you not to take cows into this forest,” Caelan’s archer, Tavish, chided. “Doesn’t look like a great short cut now, does it?”

“Point taken,” Caelan admitted quickly. “How many shots would it take?”

“Three to four,” Tavish answered grimly.

“That is not so bad.”

“Per wolf,” Tavish corrected. “You get the other two wolves to yourself.”

“I’d...rather share…” Caelan flashed his sword several times quickly to let the wolves know that there would be a price for their dinner. They didn’t like it, and suddenly growled in unison. This startled the pack horse, which snorted nervously. Caelan’s squire, Sholto, tried to calm the brute down but it reared up instead, throwing off it’s burden. As one of the sacks hit the ground, there came a metallic clang from the pots in it.

The wolves jumped slightly, confused by a sound they had never heard before today. Caelan’s eyes lit up and without looking back he yelled at Sholto, “Lad, pick those pots up and bang them together as loud as you can!”

“What!? ...Sir, I…”

“Do it!” growled Caelan, almost as nastily as if he were a wolf himself.

The second bang startled the wolves again. Now Sholto understood the trick, and to his great credit the squire ran forward banging them as loud as he could. Completely unnerved, the three beasts turned and bolted.

Seconds passed as they quietly watched them run off. It was over, for now. “Let’s get these bovine out of this forest,” Caelan concluded.

Sholto beamed up at him, quite proud of himself. When Caelan drew himself up and raised his sword, Sholto even thought he was about to be knighted. His hopes were soon dashed.

Caelan suddenly whacked him on the backside and pronounced, “I dub thee, Sir Pots and Pans.”


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Taken on December 19, 2012