pouring down his forehead and cheek, a grimace of pain on his face as he favored his torn leg.
"Got me in the knee," Tred explained, gasping between every syllable. "She's not holding me up no more. Ye run on and I'll give them puppies reason to pause!"
Nikwillig nodded, not in agreement of the whole proposal, but in determination concerning the last part. "Ye can't run, then we'll stop and fight," he answered.
"Bah!" Tred snorted at him. "Bunch o' worgs coming."
"Bunch o' dead worgs, then," Nikwillig answered with as much grit and determination as Tred had ever witnessed from him.
Nikwillig was a merchant more than a warrior, but now he was "showing his dwarf," as the old expression went. And in viewing this transformation, despite their desperate situation, Tred couldn't help but smile. Certainly if the situation had been reversed, with Nikwillig favoring a torn leg, Tred would never have considered leaving him.
"We're needin' a plan, then," said Tred.
"One using fire," Nikwillig agreed, and as he finished, a not-so-distant howl split the air and was answered several times. Still, in that chorus, both dwarves found a bit of hope.
"They're not coming in all together," Tred reasoned.
"Scattered," Nikwillig agreed.
An hour later, with the howling much closer, Tred sat beside a roaring fire, his burly arms crossed before him, his single-bladed, pointy-tipped axe set across his lap. His leg was glad of the reprieve, and his tapping foot alone betrayed his patient posture as he waited for the first of the worgs to make its appearance.
Off to the side, in the shadows behind a pile of boulders, an occasional crackle sounded. Tred winced and bit his bottom lip, hoping the rope held long enough against the weight of the withered but not yet felled pine.
When the first red eyes appeared across the way, Tred began to whistle. He reached to the side and scooped up a large pail of water, dumping it over himself.
"Ye likin' yer meat wet, puppies?" he called to the worgs.
As the huge wolves leaped into sight, he kicked at the closest edge of the fire, sending sparks and burning brands their way, momentarily stopping them. The action brought a cry of pain from the dwarf, as well. His torn leg could not hold him as he kicked out with the good one, and he went tumbling down to the side.
The chopped, dead tree came tumbling too, along the line the cunning dwarves had planned. The dried out old pine fell into the blazing fire, the wind of its descent sending sparks and dry needles rushing out to the side. More than one stung poor Tred, even igniting his beard a bit. He slapped the flickers out, stubbornly growled against his agony, and forced himself into a defensive posture.
Across the way, the rushing flames bit at the handful of worgs that had stepped into the clearing, sending them yelping and scrambling away, biting at sparking bits of fur. More came on, some even getting bit by the frenzy of their companions.
The dried pine went up in a fiery blaze between Tred and the wolves. but not before several dark forms leaped across or circumvented it.
Hands low on the handle, Tred slashed his axe across, batting aside the first flying wolf and sending it spinning to the ground. He reversed quickly, sliding his lead hand up the axe handle and setting it against his belt. As the second wolf leaped at him, it skewered itself on the axe's pointy tip. Tred didn't even try to slow that momentum, just held the flying wolf up high, guiding it over him. He brought his axe back at once, a ferocious downward chop that got the third charging worg right atop the head, smashing and splitting its skull, driving its front end down to the stone with its forelegs splaying out wide.
Nikwillig was beside him, sword in hand. When the next two worgs approached, one from either side, the dwarves turned back to back and fended the attacks.
Frustrated, the worgs circled. Nikwillig pulled a dagger from his belt and sent it flying into one worg's flank. The creature yelped and rushed off into the shadows.
Its companion quickly followed.
"First round's ours," Tred said, shying back as the heat from the burning tree became more intense.
"That pack's not wanting more of a fight," Nikwillig reasoned, "but more'll be catching us, don't ye doubt!"
He started away, pulling Tred along. Just out of the clearing, though, Tred stood taller and held his companion back.
"Unless we're catching them first,"