Even in the cool of the night, the heat from the ground across the plains was insufferable. The burnt grass crackled underfoot, brittle and sharp like miniature daggers. High above the sky seemed heavy and to the tiny forest-dwellers there was an eerie feeling as if it would collapse upon them.
Snakethrower shifted uneasily on Steepmane's back. Eyeing the thickening clouds he wondered if they would be granted a respite of rain. At this point he would gladly welcome sitting out in a downpour, tent less and soaked to the bone. His visions of rain were quickly dispelled as Twin Blades returned with the scouting report.
"We found them," he said without needing to hear Snakethrower's question. "A small herd, just as we had hoped. They seem pretty worn from the drought and are lying down for the night. We should be able to take one or two down easy."
Snakethrower nodded. As Hunt Leader, he trusted Twin Blade's judgment and the Hunt's ability to do the task.
"Good, show me where," he replied.
Soon it was settled. The Hunt was broken into two groups to flank the herd while Snakethrower, Twin Blades and Spearcatcher would corral and maneuver the beasts as needed. The wolves yipped in anticipation and a murmur of thunder rippled across the blackened sky.
Twin Blades looked out over the pack of elves and wolves. Glancing sidelong at his chief, he nodded for them to move out, first lowly and then soon at a full run as they approached the resting herd.
"Break!" he yelled last minute as wolves and riders suddenly split around the panicking shagbacks. He raced to the front of the herd to join Snakethrower and Spearcatcher in driving the huge beasts forward while the others harried and attacked their next meal.
The shagbacks lowed in terror, flinging their sharp horns on thick necks as the elves passed and circled them, barely managing to keep control of the beasts' movement. Twin Blades drew in a sharp breath as he narrowly avoided the kicking hooves of one animal, his vigilant wolf-friend veering away in the nick of time.
Then suddenly the spirit of the Mad One overtook the frightened beasts as a thick bolt of skyfire flashed down to the right of the herd. The air filled with the smell of singed grass and the brawling of the four eights of shagback which as one broke loose of the Wolfriders' control and stampeded heedlessly.
Twin Blades gripped his mount's fur so tight his knuckles pulsed white as he fought to ride clear of the terror that now filled the plains. The Hunt Leader whipped his head around frantically, checking for the safety of his escaping tribesmates. They were behind the herd, having barely managed to escape the turning of the beasts in mid-hunt. Spearcatcher circled towards them and Snakethrower -
Frantic eyes searched the darkness and quickly fell upon Snakethrower racing desperately on a tiring Steepmane, dead in the shagbacks' path.
"NO!" Twin Blades screamed, drowned out by a second clap of thunder and flash of skyfire.
In an instant the rushing herd, a sea of dust flinging hooves, gouging horns and mottled fur, washed the figure away. The tribe was stunned. No one moved. It was too unreal. How had this happened? The skyfire, the panic.
At long last Twin Blades urged forward as all eyes stared at him. In the distance he could see a shape lying in the dwindling dust. Snakethrower. Such a grizzly sight Twin Blades had only seen once or twice before. His stomach twisted and retched. Sadly, he returned to his companions to confirm what they already knew.