Another chapter :) I don't own Fable, though I love it. Enjoy
Daenerys watched them go, and suppressed a low growl in her throat. Casting a glance to her brother, who gave a small signal, she waiting until they were out of sight before going to check on her brethren.
She nudged her fallen comrades slightly, but saw the copious amounts of blood, and knew they were dead without bothering to check for signs of life. Her brother Drogo, one of the leaders of their pack seemed angrier, and she loped towards him, resting her head on his shoulder to try and calm him. He could become easily agitated, and she calmed him better than anyone.
He hummed something softly, turned away from her and leapt further into the thicket, leaving her to look with sad eyes back at the fallen, before following at a slightly slower pace to seek out the pack.
She prayed silently to their mother goddess to keep their souls safe, while adding on nervously that she may also protect her pack, because did the Gods know they needed it…
She felt a nervous knot in her stomach, and slowed her pace slightly.
The strangers were not Silverpine villagers. They communicated differently, fought differently, and smelled differently. They were more dangerous… but what made her most uncomfortable was the fact that she looked like them. Her figure was slighter, her features sharper, yet softer and gentler at the same time… but their basic anatomy was the same.
She knew she wasn't Balverine… but she couldn't be like those monsters, could she?
Ben and Jammy staggered back into the villagers camp and collapsed almost straight away, their Silver torch sputtering out as they crossed over into safety.
"Fat lot o' good that did us" Ben spat, lying face down into the mossy earth while a few of the lads ran up to help Jammy off to the medic; a common occurrence, which they didn't panic over.
"Ben, what happened?" Swift shouted about the small chaos; villagers shouting at their chief that if two soldiers couldn't hold their own out there, then they were done for. Ben ignored this, and the urge to express the fact that he and Jammy had survived, with only minor cuts and bruises and a small flesh wound in Jammy's case through some especially crude words he had stored up for such an occasion.
"Three Balverines. Massive buggers, and they're strong too" he grumbled, tossing down his broken gun with a hint of regret and facing the Major. "We're going to have to go in bigger groups on patrol, or not go as far. It's too dangerous; we'd all be killed before Sunday."
"Blimey…" Swift sighed, pulling a tobacco pipe from his pocket and lighting it up, puffing on it until it began to smoke. "You think there's much hope for this place?"
"It won't be easy… but we could fix this."