Unlike the rat, Wroth knew that he would not be able to kill a larger creature with just a simple rock. He also realized that he would not find any beasts worthy of the Dragon’s appetite in the north.

Thus, when he returned home, he snuck into his father’s den, and there, he found Calamitous reclined upon his great stone bed. The giant man’s eyelids fluttered as he beheld strange mushroom-inspired visions.

Wroth watched his father for a moment to make sure he would not wake, and then he quickly went into the chamber where Calamitous practiced his flint knapping and snatched up six sharp shards from a pile of broken stones.

Leaving his father’s den, Wroth gathered six long dried sticks and then called for his nine sisters. They hurried out of several smaller caves that riddled the enormous stone pillars and gathered around him in silent obedience.

They knew better than complain because they knew, all too well, that Wroth was inclined to beat those who disobeyed. For as I have said before, because their mother had set her first and favorite son over all of her other children, this was the pattern of their lives from the very time of their births.

Pushing and shoving the gray teens into a line, Wroth came behind each, and using one of the razor-sharp shards, he cut long tangled strands of hair from their heads.

When he had harvested their hair, he dipped the strands in pitch and tied the stolen obsidian shards to the end of each stick making six crude spears.

When he had finished assembling the spears, he made a hooting sound, and all his brothers came scrambling out from still other caves.

Once they too had formed a line, Wroth considered his eight younger brothers, and then called the names of the five largest. “Oblat, Zoof, Goroth, Grum, and Moag.” As he said their name, he handed each of them one of the spears he had made. When his pack of hunters had been chosen, he held the last spear aloft and howled, “We hunt!”

This left only three of his brothers. They were named Blaygor, Trog, and Yook, and these all looked both envious and disappointed to be left behind.

With the preparations made and the hunters picked, Wroth and his five brothers started off at a brisk pace, but not one of them knew what to expect, for they had never gone south before that day.

As Oblat, Zoof, Goroth, Grum, and Moag ran behind their eldest brother, they asked no questions concerning what they were doing or where they were going, for they knew, all too well, that Wroth had a tendency to answer their inquiries with swift and brutal blows.

Thus, the six young fell-men spent the first day running across the Gray Desert. Then, when exhaustion overcame them, they stopped and made camp upon the shore of the sea. However, they found no water, for the power of the Tree of Deepshadows had grown so that now even the Narrow Sea had completely frozen over.

After a few hours of rest huddled together, they began to hurriedly cross the thick nigh-unbreakable ice, but by the time they came to the far shore, the sun had risen in the east.

In those days, the Narrow Sea was the limit of the shadow tree’s reach, and so its pall began to break apart over the Sea of Grass. For this reason, the sun’s rays were able to shine through the gaps in the meandering clouds that littered the bright blue sky.

The sight was completely alien to the six hunters, and so when they neared the first patch of sunlight, they heedlessly charged headlong into it. However, after only seconds, they all shrieked with pain at its touch, and so, after that, they darted this way and that with fear-stricken eyes. Thus, they struggled to avoid the bright patches of light that slowly moved over the plain.

Full of desperation, they raced toward a huge pile of black boulders. Wroth reached the giant rocks first, and without pausing, he dove into the first shadowed crevice he could find just as a shaft of light passed over the place he had been. All of his brothers followed his example lunging into spaces between and under the boulders. Thus, four of the hunters made it to safety seconds before light shown upon the hill of stones.

However, when Goroth tried to slide feet-first into a crack, he found that he could not fit, and so he was caught by the sun’s rays with only his head still outside.

The gray teen let out a roar of pain as his skin produced a loud sizzling sound. Tendrils of black smoke rose from the right side of his face, and then, with great effort, he managed to squeeze himself further into his crack. Though he was now safely in the shadows, he still continued to suffer from his terrible burns.

However, Zoof was far less fortunate than even Goroth. Gripped by terror and panic, Zoof scurried around looking for a place to hide, but just as his black eyes spotted a sizable crack, the break in the clouds came over him.

As soon as the sun’s rays touched his gray skin, the same sizzling sound was heard. Black smoke rose from his flesh as he screeched with pain. He tried to stumble toward the safety of the rocks, but it was too far away. After only a few more steps, Zoof was overcome by his suffering. With a groan, he crumpled onto a boulder and did not rise again.

All through that day, the brothers cowered in their hiding places and listened to Zoof as he made a stifled whimpering sound. Nevertheless, long before the sun set, Zoof became silent.

When twilight finally came, Wroth and his remaining brothers came out and gathered around Zoof. With grim faces, they quickly realized that their brother was dead.

Goroth gingerly touched the blisters upon his own face and secretly blamed Wroth for his pain.

After a moment of respect, Wroth pointed toward the open plains and ordered the hunt to begin. With hushed grumbles, his brothers tromped forward into the high grass while gripping their spears.

Once they had gone, Wroth shook his head sadly and then took up Zoof’s spear. With one last glance at his brother’s cold body, he raced to catch up with the others.

“Quiet!” Wroth growled as he rejoined the other hunters, for they had been clumsily moving through the tall grass. In response, they attempted to walk with stealth for over an hour, until finally, strange sounds came to their pointed ears.

Carefully easing through the long grass, they came close enough to see what made the noises. There, in the dim moonlight, a herd of wild furry pigs foraged for food. They dug into the dark-red earth with their snouts while making snorts and grunts of pleasure whenever they found a tasty root.

The hunters sat quietly watching the herd until Moag could take no more. With a burst of motion, he stood and flung his crude spear at one of the animals, but in his haste, he threw the weapon wildly so that it glanced harmlessly off the side of a female.

The attack caused an eruption of panicked chaos. Pigs squealed with terror and scattered into every direction. Involuntarily following their prey’s example, every hunter rushed off each in pursuit of a different pig.

However, as the great boar ran, anger arose in his heart over being so rudely disturbed while eating, and so he abruptly decided he would fight. With this change in his mind, the huge boar suddenly circled around and ran down the hunter who chased him.

Moag was so caught off-guard that he had no time to react. Using his razor-sharp tusk, the boar gored the young man until he no longer moved or even made a sound. In the struggle, they had flattened a circle of grass and the hunter’s black blood was splashed about within the newly made clearing. Thus, when the boar took in this scene of gore and understood that he had killed his pursuer in his rage, he felt a pang of regret, but he could not linger long upon this thought.

Wroth burst out of the surrounding long grass where he had been hiding and stabbed the boar in his side. In reaction, the huge male pig turned, knocked the teenager down, and thrashed his tusks back and forth cutting a long gash into Wroth’s thigh. Consumed with terror, Wroth stabbed frantically with the second spear, and finally after many wounds, the huge boar collapsed in death on top of Wroth.

Dragging himself out from under the massive pig, Wroth jumped up and laughed wildly. He was so elated with the thrill of killing that he did not even notice he had been wounded. With great excitement, he threw back his head and let out a victorious howl.

In response to his shout of triumph, Oblat, Goroth, and Grum rushed into the clearing from three different directions. Oblat and Goroth came emptyhanded, but Grum was carrying a piglet under each arm. The little animals squealed with terror and tried to wiggle free.

Driven mad by the cries for help issuing from her babies, a huge sow crashed into the clearing and headed straight for Wroth. Wroth was so taken with his celebration that he did not see the mother pig rushing at him.

Without thinking of his own safety, Oblat dove forward knocking Wroth out of the way of the charging animal.

She passed and then angrily turned to attack again. In that same moment, Goroth found himself in the perfect position to strike out at the pig with his spear, and so he lunged, and to his surprise, he managed to kill the enraged beast after several fearful jabs. In fact, even after she collapsed, he stabbed her several more times to make sure she would not rise again.

For many more minutes, all four of the remaining hunters hurried to the center of the clearing and stood with their backs against each other. They gripped their spears and waited for another attacking pig.

In his haste to take up a defensive position with his brothers, Grum had dropped the piglets, but instead of running off, they went to their mother and tried to wake her with gentle nuzzles but to no avail.

As the men stood silent and vigilant, a rustling sound told them that something approached. They redoubled their grips upon their spears and turned toward the noise. After several rapid heartbeats, four more piglets cautiously trotted into the clearing searching for their mother.

The hunters all let out a sigh of relief, and then Grum raced around in circles trying to catch the piglets. He stumbled, fumbled, and slipped, and all the while, his brothers watched the spectacle unfold with great amusement.

When Grum had caught one, he slipped a loop of rope around its legs and then went after the next. After he had caught them all because they did not want to leave their mother, Grum collapsed with exhaustion while desperately trying to juggle the last two. Once he had these secure, he laid back and panted loudly.

Their next problem was not easily solved. Only four of the hunters now remained, and they needed to carry two huge pigs and their dead brothers back home. Moreover, the sun would soon be rising upon them, and they dared not get caught again.

An argument ensued. Wroth demanded that his boar be carried home while the sow that Goroth killed would be left behind. Goroth was indignant, but after Wroth slapped him several times, he clinched his jaws and did as he was commanded.

And so, they hurried to the shore of the frozen sea trying desperately to come back under the solid cloud cover of the north.

Wroth hobbled along leading the six piglets by ropes tied around their necks. Oblat carried what was left of their two dead brothers. Lastly, Goroth and Grum struggled along behind them with the huge boar dangling between them upon a roughly hewn stave which rested heavily upon their shoulders.

When they at last came back into the pillars of their homeland, the hunting party collapsed with exhaustion, and all of them slept for hours.

When they awoke, Grum was terribly grieved to find that his piglets had escaped. He grumbled and griped under his breath for days. However, it was fortunate for the Grayling people because those same piglets grew and increased in number. Moreover, they thrived upon the fell-folk’s dung and scraps.

In time, some of these furry pigs were recaptured so that they became like cows to the fell-folk. They drank their blood and their milk, they ate their flesh, and they made tools from their bones.