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Okay so this one is a dark fairy story, or folk tale about the dark pack, the wolves that serve the night, imagined as the thing (other than humans) that wolves are scared of. It’s also about having repercussions for you actions, eh? it’s one of the things wrote at Cropredy this year that i like, and managed to finish to an extent that i’m happy to put it up! I’m also writing a story about a pig.. but that needs a bit of polish and then i’ll pop the first chapter up for people to peruse đŸ˜€

 

The Wild Hunt

In the Old Days, dogs were wolves

And the Woods… The forest.. was not safe.

The Pack ran together, for fear,

for protection, for family and for honour.

For there is honour in the pack,

Much as there is valour in the hunt,

Though straying happened

The Pack could leave you

to the Darkness, to die.

But they didn’t always die, the exiles.

The legends told of a dark pack,

Who came for the really wild

or the rabid, the fiercest of those cut loose.

Great slavering things who roamed,

and did not fear the men

with their weapons,

and their fire.

Barghests, Hell Hounds, the lot,

fire and night.

They took you if you were bad,

Could ruin families with their wrath.

These were the wolves that took villages

or left forests empty of life at their passing.

Sometimes, they return, for those who left them

And Remember, as they do, that you left them,

in the cold, and the darkness, to die.

They have friends to aid their vengeance

Whilst in moonlight howls they cry.

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