Ciaráh was searching the burrow while her sister was out.

Somewhere, the treasure she sought should be hidden; the search was merely part of the adventure.

With her sister out hunting with the other adults, it was the perfect opportunity.

Her sister had moved into the furnished room two seasons ago, leaving Ciaráh in a hollow with her younger brother, and had raised the two for more than four winters.

Such a slob. A better punishment than having to clean her own hollow would be to clean up this mess. The disorder she caused while rummaging through her sister’s belongings would surely not be noticed, simply merging with the existing chaos.

She was all but certain that her sister kept the ball somewhere in this room.

Behind the few scrolls her sister called her own … no.

Between the clothing carelessly dropped onto the floor … no. Underneath … no.

Maybe below the bed … again, no ... and only dust, no other objects that could be used as ammunition in later quibbles.

While searching, she began imagining how the scene would play out, her coming out of the burrow, paws behind her back, maybe a fake sad smile and theatrical shake of her head, telling him she couldn’t find the toy, and then, the little cub’s eyes shining brightly as she presented the ball to him.

Still, the treasure proved elusive.

An explosion cut her search short. Her hands sped to the top of her head, covering her ears, as she curled herself up into a ball.

It roared like thunder.

A booming sound, louder than any she had ever heard.

She would have preferred to remain curled up in ball, hiding in the safety of her sister’s room, surrounded by her smell, but her brother was still outside, playing with the other cubs. She had to go find him and bring him inside.

All Ciaráh had to do was get up and go outside.

Just stand up and move.

Come on, come on, come on!

A scream broke her train of thought. Then another. Someone was attacking the skulk!

She rushed into the kitchen, past the fire-pit searching for any kind of weapon.

Wooden spoons? No. Ladle? No! Frying pan? hm... nonono.

Ah, yes yes yes!!

Her small hands gripped the handle of an iron knife, a gift for her older sister from the blacksmith's apprentice, then she hurried to the entrance.

Another loud bang made her flinch.

At the front door, Ciaráh hesitated, took a deep breath and opened the door.

Outside, hell awaited!

Neighbours were running, screaming, scared, chased by furry males, with long snouts, and almost as tall as any adult in the skulk, barking, growling and howling with the occasional whine that sounded more like snickering.

They wore simple leather armor, a few reinforced with iron plates, and were armed with short swords, axes and spears, casually slaying the few guards, hunting the men, the women, even children.

She heard the village elder speak of them occasionally.

The Cŵn Nerwnn, the hounds of Nerwnn, as the Great Mother called them.

Both she and her brother had been warned a few times;

`Go to bed quickly, or the Cŵn will steal you away to their dark fortress, Nerwnn,´ or

`Quick, eat up, empty your plate or the hounds will eat you instead.´

They were supposed to be tales.

Fiends only existing inside of stories.

She had to protect her brother.

But first she had to find him.

At the village entrance several steel cages atop wooden carriages were being loaded with the captured skulk. Ciaráh watched one of the carriages taking off, straining her eyes to see if she could recognize anyone.

Just as she made sure her brother was not one of the prisoners, she heard a loud growl.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Spinning around quickly, she looked right into the pupils of a Cŵn Nerwnn, just as he raised his arm while snickering, lifting his axe above his head, preparing to strike her down.

Ciaráh just stood there, her knuckles turning white from gripping the knife with all her strength, staring wide-eyed.

All conscious thought had left her, there were no images of friends or family flashing through her mind, no stream of memories of her life till this moment.

She glimpsed a long scar along the hound’s left eye before all her concentration was focused on the sharp edge of the axe, hovering above her head.

All the hound was focused on was the anticipation of tearing into the flesh of his next victim.

A glint of madness flickered in his eyes and across his face, as he flashed a toothy grin.

Her lips quivered, but her gaze never wavered.

Then he was gone.

It took her mind a moment to catch up.

A furry ball sped by and rammed into the ribs of the hound, lifting its feet off the ground.

Then the hound was launched with a yelp, bent in half by the sudden impact, before slamming into the ground, almost an entire spear-length away after coming to a tumbling stop.

Ciaráh was dumbstruck, still gripping the knife, turning her head slowly towards the furry ball that had come to her rescue. The little furball crouched in front of her, rubbing his head with his paws, wincing at the self-induced headache.

Her eyes started to tear up.

She was glad he was safe, and even more so because now, she did not have to look for him in the chaos of battle.

She hugged the little whelp in front of her tightly, and her tension almost loosened.

A growl snapped her mind back to the present predicament.

The hound her brother tackled, Scar, began to stir. He looked in their direction and moved to stand up, his hateful gaze transfixed on them.

As he tried to push himself off the ground, he yelped, and fell to the ground again, holding his right side.

Ciaráh’s eyes widened. They had no time to rest. They needed to escape, quickly.

She grabbed her brother’s hand, who was still nursing his headache, and scanned her surroundings, her eyes darting left and right, looking for safety.

The middle of the village was a no-go, and all avenues of escape in front of her were cut off.

Her only choice would be the forest behind her. And hope that the Cŵn Nerwnn, that Scar, wouldn’t track her.

Didn’t have time to track her.

Scar, way to close to her for comfort, slowly made to stand up.

Ciaráh held tightly onto her brother’s paw with her own, tightened her grip on the handle of the knife with the other, and then she ran.

And ran and ran and ran.

Behind her, the intermixing howls and screams continued.

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A big thank you for the help at User unice5656 for helping me with the Editing and Proofreading

The flow of the sentence structure as well as the Comma placement have been improved.

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