Author's notes: ok fans, chapter 3! Padraig has just dispatched the dragon and is feeling a little weary. He looks forward to a meal then a rest. Is that what he'll get?
Padraig took off his plate mail, revealing a wolfskin cloak underneath. Then he emptied his pack and strapped his sword's sheath onto his back, hung the empty pack over his shoulder and sheathed his sword. Then he tied a rope to a rock nearby and the other end around his waist. Slowly Padraig walked towards the cliff edge, turning around he slowly started to climb down the cliff face, trying not to look down at the forest floor 300 feet below, and a fall from this height would be fatal. He slowly climbed lower and lower and then…the rope stopped him, it wasn't long enough to reach the valley floor. Of course, Padraig had anticipated this and was ready for it.
Slowly, he untied the rope, gripping the rock face for dear life. Once the rope had been untied he carried on down towards the trees below. When he reached the forest floor the first thing he noticed was the overwhelmingly delicious aroma of the pine trees, much stronger than normal, the second thing that he was being stalked. Two white snow wolves were slinking towards him, growling softly. Padraig continued for a while, pretending not to have noticed them, hoping they would go away and find other prey. This hope was soon crushed as he realised he had wandered into a clearing in the trees. Now he had nowhere to hide, they would attack. They charged through the undergrowth, roaring fiercely. Each was about three foot tall, thick; sinuous muscle covered their body.
They were starving, frothing at the mouths and their ribs were visible through their skin. The first leapt, snarling at Padraig and knocked him to the floor while the other circled round them menacingly. Padraig reached desperately for his sword but it was just out of reach, he strained against the wolf and tried to push it off him but it was too strong. The wolf's face was so close to Padraig's he could feel its hot breath on his face and smell the rancid smell of rotting meat. With much effort Padraig managed to free his arm and punched the wolf hard in the mouth, it snarled but did not move. Reaching for his belt, Padraig drew his sword and plunged it into the wolf's chest, causing it to flinch, giving him enough time to pull himself free. Scrambling away from the wolves he held his sword low, inviting them to attack. The first wolf, the one he had wounded, leapt again, gnashing its teeth. Padraig ducked and span round, slashing his sword across the wolf's belly. Its blood mixed with the snow making a crimson slush. The second wolf eyed him menacingly, then without warning it charged with incredible speed, though it was not fast enough. Padraig sidestepped the attack and rammed his sword into the wolf's back.
After he had cleaned a sword in the snow he walked through the forest, listening and looking, searching for a suitable tree to cut down. All around him the forest floor was covered with the golden-brown autumn leaves. He could here the buzzing of flying insects all around him and somewhere high up in the trees some unseen birds called to each other. At last Padraig found a small tree and began to cut through its trunk with his axe. It was hard work so he decided to find the river he had seen from the top of the cliff. As he wandered around he heard the sound of running water. Slowly he walked towards the sound and soon found himself by the river's edge. Looking into the water he saw his own reflection. His dark black hair had grown long and now hung down to his shoulders. His ebony brown eyes were full of life. He saw his own stern, chiselled face and muscular neck. Taking a handful of water he threw it over his face before it all flowed between his fingers. He hadn't washed properly for days and his skin was covered with dirt and grime.
Taking a deep breath he submerged his whole head in the water. It was cold but fresh. Seeing fish swimming up and down he realised he might be able to have a proper meal instead of salted beef. He took his head out of the water and relished the thought of salmon. Slowly he slipped his hands into the water and waited for a fish to pass over them. One fish came to investigate these strange new objects, and with lightning speed, Padraig grabbed the fish and hauled it out of the water. It was heavy, about a stone, and around a foot long. With a single motion he snapped its neck. Then he walked back towards the cliff, his back heavy with wood and the fish. It was much harder climbing up the cliff but eventually he reached the top. Padraig collapsed onto the floor, panting, sweat pouring down his face. He lay there for a few minutes, perfectly still, before sitting up and taking the wood out of his bag. He stacked up the pieces of wood into a pyramid shape before taking a piece of flint from his pile of equipment and striking it along his sword. Sparks flew through the air, several landing on the wood and setting them alight. Padraig blew on the flames gently to get the fire going before holding up the fish to the light. With one swipe of his sword Padraig cut off the fishes head. He then began to skin it carefully. He soon had the fish cooking over the now roaring fire.
The cool night air pressed around him, the wind screaming through the valley below. His eyelids began to droop and he found himself nodding off.
Alright, stay tuned and review!