MOTH: Chapter 38

Darian and Rondar crept through the forest, the musty smell of damp earth and rotting leaves filling their nostrils. Darian kept his bow at the ready, an arrow nocked and his senses straining for any hint of danger. Beside him, Rondar moved with surprising stealth for someone so stout, his axe and hammer held loose but ready at his sides.

After hours of careful tracking, following the trampled earth and broken branches that marked the gnolls' passage, they finally reached their destination. Rondar held up a hand, signalling for Darian to stop. The dwarf pointed through a gap in the trees.

Darian squinted and swallowed hard as he took in the scene. Crude hide tents and rough wooden shelters huddled in the centre of the valley, smoke rising from cookfires. Hulking, hyena-like shapes prowled between them - gnolls. Dozens of them, more than Darian had ever seen in one place.

But it was the structure at the far end of the encampment that drew his eye and made his stomach lurch. A sturdy wooden frame had been erected, like a grim parody of a market stall. And hanging from it, trussed up like slaughtered pigs...

"Gods," Rondar choked out beside him. "Durek. Kelvhan. Bolhar…"

Darian tore his gaze away from the captured dwarves to look at his friend. Rondar's face had gone ashen under his beard, his hands flexed on his axe helves, tendons standing out like cords.

He's going to do something reckless , Darian realized with a chill. And no wonder - seeing your loved ones strung up, waiting to become some monster's meal…it would drive anyone mad. If it was his Ma, Talia or Thomas down there, he'd already be charging in himself.

Carefully, Darian laid a hand on the dwarf's trembling shoulder. "Steady on," he murmured. "We'll get them out."

Rondar's head jerked in a nod, but he didn't look away from the dwarves. "Aye," he said thickly. "We will. Or I'll die tryin'."

A shiver worked its way up Darian's spine at the raw anguish in those words. I can't let that happen, he thought fiercely. I won't.

"Right then," Darian said in a low voice. "We need a plan." He surveyed the layout of the camp again, counting gnolls, marking positions.

Think, Dare, think! he urged himself. What do you know about gnolls?

Suddenly, a useful snippet from the countless hours of studying history came back to him. "Gnolls are vicious and cruel but not too bright. Driven by their bellies, they can enter a state of bloodlust…”

Darian's eyes widened. That's it!

"Bait," he said aloud. At Rondar's perplexed look, he elaborated. "We need bait. Something to draw them off, get their attention."

The dwarf's brow crinkled. "Yeh'll not be suggestin' I truss meself up and offer to be the bloody main course!"

"What? No!" Darian waved him off impatiently. "We need something they want more than dwarf. Something that'll make them abandon the camp."

Rondar scratched his beard. "More than dwarf, eh? Not sure there is such a thing for gnolls. They do love the taste o' us."

Yes, Darian thought grimly. And there's no way I'm letting you sacrifice yourself. His eyes fell to the brace of coneys hanging from his belt, the product of this morning’s foraging. Hares, still warm and bloody. He had thought they would come in handy, and he was right.

"Raw meat," he said slowly. Rondar blinked, then followed his gaze. Understanding lit his face.

"Aye, that might do it," the dwarf said. "A big enough pile o' fresh game could draw the whole blasted lot of 'em off."

Darian nodded. "Exactly. I'll set up a kill pile away from here, upwind so they smell it."

Rondar frowned. "Ye mean we will."

"No." Darian met his eyes squarely. " I will. You need to be here, ready to free your kin the second the gnolls go for the bait."

"Absolutely not! I'll not be sendin' ye out there alone—"

"It's the only way." Darian cut him off. "We can't risk you getting captured."

The dwarf opened his mouth to argue further, but Darian overrode him. "Those prisoners...your family...they need you, Rondar," he said quietly. "They can't afford you to play the hero, not today. Let me do this." Please.

For a long, tense moment they stared at each other, a battle of wills. Then, slowly, Rondar sighed.

"I don't like it," he grumbled. "Not one blasted bit. But yer right." Orange eyes bored into Darian's. "Ye'll be careful? No takin' fool chances?"

Darian nodded, throat tight. "I will. I'll lure them off and circle back around. With luck, we'll all be headed home by nightfall."

"From yer mouth to Malach’s ears," Rondar muttered. He clasped Darian's forearm fiercely. "Ye get in trouble, ye run, understand? Ye run and don't look back."

"I'll be fine," Darian said, trying to sound confident. "See you soon."

With that, he turned and slipped away into the brush, Rondar's worried gaze boring into his back.

***

Yippug bounced from paw to paw, barely able to contain his excitement. Today was the day! After six moon-turns of waiting and watching the older hunters, he would finally get his first taste of dwarf-flesh. His tongue lolled out, drool already gathering at the thought.

"Hold still, ye daft pup!" his mother Spittlesnap growled. "Ye'll not be joinin' the feastin' at all if ye can't even sit for a groomin'!"

Yippug yelped as she cuffed him round the ears, but he obediently hunkered down, allowing her to smooth the matted patches in his fur. It wouldn't do to show up for his first grand feast looking like something a troll sneezed out.

Around them, the pack camp bustled with activity as gnolls of every size and shade prepared for the upcoming feast. Cookfires belched greasy smoke, skins were scraped and boiled for the new tents, and dwarven prisoners moaned in their cages. To Yippug, it all blended together into a perfect symphony of familial bliss.

This is what it means to be a gnoll, he thought proudly. Not just the huntin' and feastin', but bein' part of a pack. Carin' for each other, like Ma does for me.

Yippug knew life hadn't always been so good. His elders still told stories of the Lean Times, when two-legs with bright metal claws drove them from their ancestral plains into the wild forests. Packs fractured, litters died, and the gnolls were forced to harry the edges of two-leg villages like stray gods, snatching cattle and babes just to survive.

But Warlord Garnak refused to cringe like a whipped mongrel. Yippug listened raptly as Spittlesnap recounted the story of how Garnak united the fractured packs and led them to glorious conquest against the dwarves. The warlord was cunning as a fox and fierce as a dire wolf, a true alpha among alphas.

"Garnak knew the dwarves had grown soft and slow in their mountain halls," Spittlesnap growled. "They had forgotten the taste of fear, the scent of their own blood. It made them weak."

She grinned, baring yellowed fangs. "And there's nothin' a gnoll loves more than a weak foe!"

The others yipped and howled in agreement, Yippug joined in. He had heard the story a hundred times, but it never failed to make his heart race.

Under Garnak's leadership, the gnolls descended on the dwarven outposts and settlements like a fury from the Wailing Hells. They took captives, plundered treasure, and feasted on the flesh of their enemies. The packs grew strong again, and soon, Yippug would take his place among the warriors, adding his teeth to the fray. He shivered in delicious anticipation.

A sudden commotion outside the camp made his ears prick up. Howls and barks erupted as a patrol came pelting back through the gate.

"Meat!" the lead hunter panted. "Meat on the wind! A pile of it, just sittin' there for the takin'!"

Warlord Garnak emerged from his tent, his dark fur streaked with warpaint. His eyes narrowed as he questioned the scout thoroughly.

"Any sign of traps or two-legs?" he demanded.

"None, my lord," the scout replied. "We checked thrice over. Clean kills, still warm even."

Garnak paced, his tail lashing thoughtfully. Yippug waited in anticipation, along with the rest of the pack. What would the warlord decide?

Finally, Garnak nodded. "Send Bladeswipes and his best. They're to approach careful-like, checkin' for any trickery. If it's truly a bounty left for us by the Feast Gods, then we'll take it gladly. But they're to come straight back at the first whiff of trouble."

Bladeswipes panted eagerly and began calling out names. To Yippug's shock and delight, he was among them. His first hunt!

As the raiding party left the camp, noses twitching at the scent of blood on the wind, Yippug felt a thrill of pride. He would make his pack proud. He would prove himself a true gnoll warrior.

The meat pile was just where the scouts had said - a mound of flesh and fur tucked into a little copse of trees. Yippug's mouth watered at the rich stench of it. Hares and deer, a free feast!

But as they approached, Bladeswipes held up a paw for caution. The grizzled old hunter sniffed the air, his hackles rising. "Somethin' ain't right," he growled. "Smells like...two-leg."

No sooner had the words left his muzzle than an arrow zipped out of the trees and buried itself in Bladeswipes' chest. The pack leader toppled with a gurgle, kicking feebly.

Chaos erupted. More arrows hissed from the treetops, downing three gnolls before the rest could react. Snarling, the survivors scattered for cover.

Yippug crouched behind a stump, his heart trip-hammering. An ambush! Some cowardly two-leg was trying to hunt them!

Another gnoll yelped and fell thrashing as an arrow took him through the eye. Yippug bared his fangs, fighting the urge to flee. He would not shame himself, not on his first raid!

Across the clearing, he spotted a flicker of movement in the branches of an old oak. The archer! Trying to keep his tail from giving him away, Yippug crept closer, keeping low to the ground.

He would catch the two-leg unawares, drag it down and tear out its sneaky throat. Oh, how the pack would praise him! He tensed, ready to spring-

And an arrow, trailing blue-white fire, slammed into his chest.

Yippug yipped in shock and pain. He scrabbled at the shaft with his claws, but it was sunk deep, scraping against bone. Hot blood gushed over his fur as the world spun dizzily.

He crumpled to the ground but before his eyes closed, he caught a glimpse of his killer. Not some grizzled dwarven archer, but a human boy clutching a glowing bow.

Too young, Yippug thought muzzily. Too young to hunt. Just a pup like me...

Then the darkness swallowed him, and he knew no more.