<HTML> How you are enjoying this. Comments and suggestions are welcome.   Chris ****** The building that Jacob led them to was once a shop for outfitting travellers for their journeys. Such could be clearly seen by the scattering of debris from the smashed front. Jacob almost tripped over a frozen body in the street that was half covered by the drifting snows. That had clinched it and he demanded Rickkter provide some light. The raccoon mage nodded absently as he hugged himself, teeth chattering. But he did summon a dim feather of witchlight above their heads. Now they were standing in a room at the top of the house in what was an observation tower. From it they could see the whole town. Or would, were it not for the snow. Now all they could see was blackness, snow blowing against the windows, and the odd blotch of orange from various fires. The greatest number of those was to the north, towards the Keep itself, and in the same direction the raccoon mage was looking intently. "It's a swarm," Rickkter finally pronounced. "We're screwed." "It can't be that bad." "It is that bad. We can't reach the main gates: we're stuck out here." "But we've been lucky so far--" "We've been on the outskirts of their forces. Their main objective was Metamor itself." "You have your magic--" "Which will be picked up by any other magic user in the vicinity. I don't have the resources to properly work the cloaks." "But if we can just get to the gates--" Rickkter's paw latched onto Jacob's collar and pulled the fox close. The raccoon's lips were drawn up in a snarl as he yelled into the fox's ear. "Listen to what I'm trying to tell you! Will you do that?! They will not let us in. At all!" He shook the fox. "That army that I saw now controls the gates -  something I'm not half surprised about after seeing this. They're not about to let us through. We'd be lucky to be killed on sight. They own everything between here and the Keep itself! Do you understand that!?" He felt the faint tug on the collar as the fox nodded. "Good! Now, assuming they haven't completely overwhelmed the gates, that means our side is fighting a losing battle. Do you understand that? They will not open the gates for us. Under ANY circumstances! Not for just the two of us, it would be too great a risk of letting the enemy in. We are therefore expendable! Do you understand that?" "I do," Jacob whispered meekly, just loud enough to be heard over the howling wind. "Good!" Rickkter hunched his shoulders, thrusting the cowed fox away as he wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to stay warm. Damn it, he was so cold! Even his teeth were starting to chatter.  He swore inwardly at the entire situation, and the caution that made it risk for him to risk something as simple as a spell to keep himself warm. "We need to get ourselves some real shelter, someplace relatively safe for the night and wait until morning or until this snow lessens. When that comes I have no idea what we'll do. Try and escape to someplace they haven't taken over yet, perhaps." "Yes, you're right, we do need shelter," Jacob agreed. He was looking over the shivering raccoon, mostly unaffected himself by the harsh cold. "If we don't get you someplace warm soon, you're going to freeze to death." "And what happens if we run into another group of Lutins?" Rick asked as he hugged himself for warmth. "We haven't so far. Besides, if what you said is right about them taking the gates, they'll need all the men they can to do that. They won't have the resources to worry about the town."  The fox shook his head slowly and grinned from one corner of his muzzle, "And if we do I think you would not need magic to slaughter them." He said, nodding toward the raccoon's sword.   A rime of ice had formed on the hilt, making it gleam in the muted light. Rickkter growled through his clenched muzzle. Damn it, the fox was making too much sense. Besides, his fingers were so cold they were hurting him.  He doubted that, had lutins come upon them at that moment, he even hold his sword, much less fight with it. "Alright, fine. Let's do this." They descended the stairs once more into the wrecked shop, Rick bringing up the rear. He was concentrating so hard on keeping his jaw locked shut that he missed a step, stumbling and almost hitting the fox in front of him. When they reached the bottom level, Jacob took one look through the ruined front then turned and placed a hand on Rick's chest as the coon started to head out. "Look, I've lived here my whole life, and I've learned some things about certain morphs in this kind of weather. If we go out now, with the wind and snow that's being tossed around, I don't think you'll make it. I can stand the cold better, so it should be me that goes out." "No way," Rick said with an emphatic shake of his head. "We're not separating." "You'll freeze if you go out there." Looking up into the placid face by the weak and flickering glow of his witchlight, Rickkter could only snarl. He also knew the fox was right. "Okay, you win. Though I'm still coming with you." Jacob's ears tilted back in a frown. "How?" Rickkter appeared to ignore him, throwing debris from behind a series of shelves. He eventually came up holding a large canvas backpack. "I think this should do," he muttered as he tossed it on the counter. Jacob did a double take as the raccoon started to remove his weapons. "What are you doing?" "Like I said, I'm coming with you," Rickkter told him as he pulled off his chainmail shirt and tossed it on the table. He tapped the pack beside it. "I'm going in this. And since I don't want to lose any of my weapons, get over here and put them on." Jacob had Rick's swords and two knives on and was adjusting the oversized mail shirt by the time he figured out what the mage was intending. Rick left Jacob to do the buckles on the rest of it, as his paws were shaking too badly to do anything but start stuffing his removed clothing into the bag. A gust of wind ruffled the fur on his chest and he had to snap his jaws shut to stop their chattering. "Okay, Jacob," he said, his voice shivering just as much as the rest of him. "From now on, you're on your own. No light to guide you, and I don't know if I'll be able to concentrate enough to use my magic to keep a look out. Just find us someplace warm for the night, preferably on the edge of town as there shouldn't be to many of them out that way. We can decide on course of action in the morning, okay?" "Yes, okay. Now get in the bag." Rickkter spared a moment to consider how ridiculous the near black fox looked in the ill-fitting armor and weapons. He just hoped he would get a chance to get them back. If that fox were killed and some slimy Lutin got them for a trophy, Rickkter would be most upset! The whole situation brought a snarl to his lips as he grew smaller, more hunched over, shifting into his animal form. Jacob picked up the fully transformed raccoon around the middle, feeling the thick tail automatically tuck under Rick and against his own paw. "Damn, you are cold," he observed, vigorously rubbing the raccoon's fur. Rickkter grumbled and chittered as he squirmed in the fox's arms. "Okay, okay. In you go." He opened the pack a little wider, carefully laying the raccoon in on his back so that Rick could have his nose close to the opening to breathe. "Well, I hope you're warm enough now," he said, tucking in Rick's tattered dress shirt around the raccoon, "because I don't intend to stop again until we're safe. I'll try and keep the trip as free from bumps as I can, but I can't promise anything if the Lutins show up. Any problems with that?" Rickkter gurred, but shook his head. "Alright then. See you when we're warmer." He closed and secured the lid of the pack, carefully hoisting it onto his shoulders as the small sphere of magic ceased to exist. Even though the illumination had been weak, it took the fox's eyes some minutes to adjust to the dark. Fingering the wrap on the unfamiliar sword at his hip, Jacob Fox set out into the cold unknown. ** The patrol moved slowly down the corridor. In the lead was Arla, the dog morph. Dressed in only a leather jerkin covered with metal studs, she was not wearing a helmet. She never wore one when she was patrolling. No matter how well made, they always seemed to block her ears and cut out her hearing. Knowing the enemy was coming was more important then being better protected. Arla's first warning of the wolves was in one of the Keeps many kitchens. There in the doorway was a large paw print barely visible in the dust. She motioned for the five scouts behind her to stop and then she crouched down and examined the print. It was as huge, almost as big as her head. The woman who knelt next to Arla was tall, almost six foot, and was solidly built. There was no mistaking the powerful muscles under her chain mail armor. Her long brown hair was bundled up underneath her helmet. She   examined the print with piercing brown eyes. The dog pointed to the print in the dust and then placed her hands next to her ears in imitation of the wolves' larger ears. Her message was clear, "Wolf prints." The woman, who was Laura, Arla's team leader. Quickly the remaining scouts joined them. Laura examined the prints for a moment. She spread both hands apart then placed them by her own ears. "giant wolf," she corrected silently. Arla held up both hands, all ten fingers spread wide, then clenched her fist and opened them again. "twenty," was the count. All six scouts shifted nervously. The idea of fighting that many of those pony sized monsters wasn't a happy one. Trying to kill twenty of them was hopeless for such a small group. A slim teenage girl dressed in leather crouched next to Arla. Her leather armor and short sword looked out of place on such a young looking person, but Arla knew better. Lisa Ringe was married with two children, and a hardened, veteran scout of many years. Arla was glad to have the tough little scout with them. "Now what?" Arla asked with silent hand signals. "We keep going," Laura said. "If a dire wolf pack is loose in the Keep we have to find them before they can cause any havoc." "Agreed," Lisa answered with her hands. Arla nodded and motioned the group forward. The kitchen was a shambles; pots, pans, knives, forks, and bits of unidentifiable debris were scattered everywhere. The sound of tearing flesh, and bones crunching came to the collie's ears and the faint but unmistakable scent of the giant canines came to her sensitive nose. Moving carefully, they followed the sounds, past shattered crockery and battered furniture. The sharp tang of the dire wolves' scents became stronger with each step. As she came to the counter Arla could make out the scents individual dire wolves. The sounds and smells led through the kitchen, past the large stoves and ovens, past shattered cabinets and over turned tables and to a closed door. Pressing her ear to the door the sounds of the wolves feasting came through clearly and their scents were overpowering. Quickly the scouts spread out in a semicircle around the door. Weapons were drawn and readied for a use. Silent hand signals were passed back and forth until everyone understood their job. Ralls held a warhammer in his left hand and reached for the door handle with the other. Arla briefly wondered if his chainmail armor was strong enough to withstand the dagger sized teeth of a dire wolf. She looked at the brown bear standing next to her left. Meredith had a large crossbow in his big hands. That bow was too large for the dog to even pick up, yet the bear wielded it like it was a toy. The axe that was strapped to Meredith's back had a head as big as Arla's but he could wield it with a frightening speed and dexterity. A glance to her right showed her the small, slim form of Allart. Even some many years after the curse had taken effect she still found it hard to remember that the fourteen year old boy there was actually twenty five, with a wife and child. Still the boy could wield his short sword with skill. Arlas attention was drawn back to Ralls. The man was looking at her. She nodded that she was ready. He yanked the door open and jumped back, bringing his hammer up to strike. After several long moments a solitary dire wolf poked its head out of the door, a large beef bone in the wolf's powerful jaws. It stared at the scouts, and then withdrew back inside. Confused by the less then hostile greeting Arla carefully peered into the room and saw strange sight. The room had been a pantry. Shelves lined the walls from the floor all the way to the ceiling. But the shelves were empty, only bits and pieces were scattered around. Also scattered around the large room were twenty dire wolves. Some of the huge lupines were eating, some were sleeping and in the corner two were playing together with a large bone. All activity stopped and the score of dire wolves turned to look at the intruder in the doorway. "Hello!" a voice said from the panty. Following the voice she saw, there, perched on a shelf that was at least ten feet off the floor, was a black haired boy of around ten years old. "I'm Terrance." Arla noted that the shelf was out of the reach of the wolves, most likely the only reason he was still alive.   As Arla and Laura watched twenty pairs of eyes turned in their direction and one of the wolves uttered a deep, guttural growl as he slowly stood up. The remainder of his pack mates got up onto their paws and also moved toward the door. Quickly the six scouts readied themselves for when the dire wolves would come boiling out of the door. Arla stepped back, raised her sword and awaited the first rush of the monsters. The rush never came. For a long moment the scouts waited anxiously but the dire wolves never came out. Finally the border collie stepped back to the door and quickly peered in. Arla let out a yip of humor and her tail wagged. "What's wrong?" Meredith asked. "We're waiting for them to attack us, and they're waiting for us to attack them," came her answer in an amused tone of voice. The bear lowered his axe to the floor, "Now what? Why don't they attack?" "Why should they?" Terrance asked. "All the food is in here." "You have to admit he has point," Ralls commented moving forward to stand next to Meredith. The woman smiled. "Why would they want to leave a nice, warm room full of food and get killed fighting us?" "Now what happens?" Terrance asked. "You two groups going to stand there staring at each other or what?" All eyes, both keeper and dire wolf turned and looked up at the boy. End part 22</HTML>