support, she moved quickly to the door and slipped outside.
They charged, screaming and squealing. Eyes snapped open, and snarls of alarm turned
into yelps of fear as Carole shoved the flaming brands at the dogs. The pack scattered in all
directions.
She turned for the trail but three dogs came at her from behind the well. She hurled a
branch at them. Two gave way but the third lunged for her legs. Twisting sideways, she swung
her staff and hit the dog in the face as its jaws clamped onto her skirt. Material ripped as the dog
jerked back with a howl. Another dog rushed in and got a mouthful of fire and spark.
Still screaming at the top of her lungs, Carole threw branches at the closest animals
while speeding towards the trail at the far end of the meadow. She concentrated on putting as
much distance as possible between herself and the dogs, before the bewildered animals realized
that their pork dinner had also escaped.
"Keep an eye out, Runt," Carole gasped. "Let me know if--" She heard the growls before
the rest of the sentence was out of her mouth. She looked over her shoulder, past Runt. Two
monstrous dogs, fangs gleaming in the firelight, were charging after her.
Carole threw all but one of her remaining branches at them and kicked into a sprint. She
glanced back moments later. The dogs were still closing in.
"Hang on, Runt!" She skidded to a stop and spun around to face them. Staff in one hand
and sputtering branch in the other, she waited.
The dogs, one tan the other black, slowed to a measured pace but kept coming, guttural
sounds escaping from their gaping maws.
Carole challenged the black one, thrusting flame in its face. The dog backed off with a
snarl, but the tan raced in and clamped down on her staff. She jabbed with her firebrand and it
leapt away. She pivoted, swinging hard. Her staff came down squarely on the black's head. The
dog dropped, stunned. Carole twisted to face the tan, but her momentum combined with the
weight of Runt and her pack was too great. Arms flailing, she stumbled backwards. The branch
slipped from her hand and the tan dog lunged for her throat.
With a cry of desperation, she raised her staff. Amazingly, it jammed into the tan's open
jaws. CRACK! The staff wrenched out of her hand as the dog slammed into her
chest.
She lay on the ground, winded and gasping. Only after Runt gave a faint "Ri-i-it?" did
she realize that the dog was still on top of her, and that her pig was trapped beneath her pack. She
pushed the dog off and rolled over. The tan's body convulsed and became still.
"Anything broken?"
Runt got up slowly. "Ret." He went over to the dog and sniffed. "Reet?"
"I don't know. There's no way that poke should've killed it." Carole picked up her staff
and examined it closely. "I thought this thing had snapped in two, but there's barely a
scratch."
She saw movement. The black dog was regaining consciousness. Getting to her feet, she
raised her staff high, and inched close. Teeth bared, the dog lifted its head but remained silent.
For a long moment she stood poised and ready.
When the dog didn't move, she prodded it. It snapped at her staff and struggled to its
feet.
"Go on. Get!"
The dog looked hard at Runt before turning and staggering off.
"Back on top, Runt," Carole said as she crouched. "We've got to get out of here."
Finally, a good thirty minutes later, she could go no further and collapsed in an
exhausted heap onto the ground, letting Runt tumble unceremoniously off her back. As she lay
there gasping, he sniffed, testing the air and listening for further signs of pursuit. Satisfied that
the pack truly had given up the chase, he ambled over and asked for something to eat.
"You...stomach...on...legs. Root...around...for...greens...'til...I...catch...my...breath."
Snorting indignantly, he went about finding his own breakfast.
Eventually, feeling less winded, Carole tossed Runt an oat cake. After finishing one
herself, she got to her feet. Thankful that Runt was
They charged, screaming and squealing. Eyes snapped open, and snarls of alarm turned
into yelps of fear as Carole shoved the flaming brands at the dogs. The pack scattered in all
directions.
She turned for the trail but three dogs came at her from behind the well. She hurled a
branch at them. Two gave way but the third lunged for her legs. Twisting sideways, she swung
her staff and hit the dog in the face as its jaws clamped onto her skirt. Material ripped as the dog
jerked back with a howl. Another dog rushed in and got a mouthful of fire and spark.
Still screaming at the top of her lungs, Carole threw branches at the closest animals
while speeding towards the trail at the far end of the meadow. She concentrated on putting as
much distance as possible between herself and the dogs, before the bewildered animals realized
that their pork dinner had also escaped.
"Keep an eye out, Runt," Carole gasped. "Let me know if--" She heard the growls before
the rest of the sentence was out of her mouth. She looked over her shoulder, past Runt. Two
monstrous dogs, fangs gleaming in the firelight, were charging after her.
Carole threw all but one of her remaining branches at them and kicked into a sprint. She
glanced back moments later. The dogs were still closing in.
"Hang on, Runt!" She skidded to a stop and spun around to face them. Staff in one hand
and sputtering branch in the other, she waited.
The dogs, one tan the other black, slowed to a measured pace but kept coming, guttural
sounds escaping from their gaping maws.
Carole challenged the black one, thrusting flame in its face. The dog backed off with a
snarl, but the tan raced in and clamped down on her staff. She jabbed with her firebrand and it
leapt away. She pivoted, swinging hard. Her staff came down squarely on the black's head. The
dog dropped, stunned. Carole twisted to face the tan, but her momentum combined with the
weight of Runt and her pack was too great. Arms flailing, she stumbled backwards. The branch
slipped from her hand and the tan dog lunged for her throat.
With a cry of desperation, she raised her staff. Amazingly, it jammed into the tan's open
jaws. CRACK! The staff wrenched out of her hand as the dog slammed into her
chest.
She lay on the ground, winded and gasping. Only after Runt gave a faint "Ri-i-it?" did
she realize that the dog was still on top of her, and that her pig was trapped beneath her pack. She
pushed the dog off and rolled over. The tan's body convulsed and became still.
"Anything broken?"
Runt got up slowly. "Ret." He went over to the dog and sniffed. "Reet?"
"I don't know. There's no way that poke should've killed it." Carole picked up her staff
and examined it closely. "I thought this thing had snapped in two, but there's barely a
scratch."
She saw movement. The black dog was regaining consciousness. Getting to her feet, she
raised her staff high, and inched close. Teeth bared, the dog lifted its head but remained silent.
For a long moment she stood poised and ready.
When the dog didn't move, she prodded it. It snapped at her staff and struggled to its
feet.
"Go on. Get!"
The dog looked hard at Runt before turning and staggering off.
"Back on top, Runt," Carole said as she crouched. "We've got to get out of here."
Finally, a good thirty minutes later, she could go no further and collapsed in an
exhausted heap onto the ground, letting Runt tumble unceremoniously off her back. As she lay
there gasping, he sniffed, testing the air and listening for further signs of pursuit. Satisfied that
the pack truly had given up the chase, he ambled over and asked for something to eat.
"You...stomach...on...legs. Root...around...for...greens...'til...I...catch...my...breath."
Snorting indignantly, he went about finding his own breakfast.
Eventually, feeling less winded, Carole tossed Runt an oat cake. After finishing one
herself, she got to her feet. Thankful that Runt was
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