As Garran stood in the snow pondering what to do, he instinctively pulled his shield from his back. Then, he slipped his left arm through the straps and quickly unsheathed his mace from his side before spinning it into position in his right hand.

Another mysterious cackle pierced the quiet winter air about twenty feet ahead of Garran. The noise reverberated off the snow banks and tree trunks in the surrounding area, adding to the unearthliness of the sound. The howl had come from behind the furrowed bark of a lone pine tree. Garran pinpointed the source of the sound with his exceptional hearing and watched the area around the tree for movement. As he did so, out stepped a tall, furry creature in which Garran had never seen before.

The creature stood on its hind legs, as did Garran, but this creature was no wolfkin. It did, however, bear some wolf-like characteristics. It was covered from head to toe in fur, and the creature had a long snout that ended with a blunt nose above a snarling mouth filled with razor sharp teeth. The creature had two pointed ears atop its head like Garran. However, that is where the similarities stopped.

There was a piercing in its left ear. It was some type of small animal bone that protruded through the lower lobe; the sharp, jagged edge of the bone poked out through the back of the ear. The creature’s head and neck were hunched, making it look much shorter than it should have, though it still easily stood 7 feet tall.

Along the back of its head and neck and down to its shoulderline, was a dark crest-like mane that was so matted and filthy it stood on end. Its fur was brown with dark, mottled spots and it--despite the cold air--wore a thin loin cloth around its midsection and a thin dirt-covered leather tunic on its chest.

It stood there in the open staring at Garran for a moment. The creature’s yellow, predatory eyes staring at Garran, unblinking; calculating. Its breath plumed out of its slathering mouth in white fog as it huffed into the cold air. Clearly, this creature was not used to this high altitude or this cold climate.

Garran knew what this creature was, though he’d never seen one. He’d heard members of his tribe talk about them, and shivered as he remembered--in detail--some very descriptive stories of the vicious nature of these creatures.

It was a gnoll. The head distinctly looked like that of a hyena and currently that hyena visage was snarling menacingly in Garran’s direction. The creature was holding two crudely-made axes in its slender, clawed hands. These weapons looked to be sharpened stone mounted on wooden shafts.

A movement behind him made Garran look up sharply as he saw two more gnolls step out from the trees. These two were similarly dressed as their counterpart, and bore the same intimidating scowls on their faces. One of them gave a broken laugh-like howl like Garran had heard earlier. These two gnolls were smaller than the one in the front but no less menacing. One of them carried a single long-handled axe, and the other carried a large spiked club of some sort.

The two newcomers fanned out behind Garran to cut off any chance of retreat. These creatures definitely meant to attack him. Garran’s heart thumped in his chest as he tried to think of some way out of this situation.

Resigned, Garran spoke up in a deep, gruff drawl, “We don’t want any trouble. We are just passing through. My friends are just past this treeline here.”

Garran pointed past the trees behind the lone gnoll in front of him. The single gnoll glanced behind him up the slope, then back at Garran with a knowing look. The lone gnoll let out a faint hyena-like chuckle and took a step forward. The two smaller gnolls followed suit from behind.

They know I’m alone. They’ve been following me for miles now, Garran chided himself. Seeing the large gnoll in front closing the distance, and hearing the two behind him coming forward, Garran readied himself for a fight. He took a single, long step to the right and twisted to the side so all three of the gnolls were within his line of sight.

All three of the creatures were advancing slowly, with weapons drawn. Three salivating, toothy mouths snarled at him as they closed the distance between them. Garran bared his massive, white fangs and matched their snarls with equal fervor.

“The hard way it is then,” he growled through his teeth. Garran spread his stance, lowered his center of mass, and prepared for the inevitable attack.

It came swiftly and all at once. These creatures were deceptively quick on the draw. The two gnolls attacked from the back in tandem with their axe and club but Garran was able to bring his shield up in time to block them. The stone weapons made a loud, reverberating thud against Garran’s buckler. Chunks of wood splintered off from the blow and flew off into the snow. The other gnoll attacked from the front with one of his axes, and it was by sheer fight-or-flight reflex that Garran was able to lean to the side and dodge the vicious swipe.

Garran used the momentum of his dodge to swing his hammer upward at the large gnoll. Not expecting Garran to react as quickly to its initial attack, the creature was caught off guard and took a hard knock as Garran’s hammer connected with the gnoll’s lower jaw.

Blood and teeth littered the white snow surrounding them, as the front gnoll spat on the ground. It then locked eyes with Garran and sneered angrily through bloodied lips and now-gnarled teeth.

Garran retreated another step to the right to try and keep all three of his opponents to his front but the rearguard gnoll with the axe--a female, Garran now realized-- was quicker and ducked behind him. Not good, Garran thought.

Garran looked around quickly for anything to help him. He saw that they were standing under a tall branch of one of the elder conifer trees; the needle-covered limbs heavily laden with new-fallen snow. Garran lifted his head high and let out a deep, somber howl that echoed up through the branches of the tree. The eerie howl reverberated off the snowbanks, and trees in the area and the cacophony sounded like a dozen wolves howling at once.

The howl had the desired effect. As he let out this mournful bay, the scene itself almost seemed to freeze. The ground crackled and the temperature seemed to drop considerably. The three gnolls looked up nervously at the heavy branches and could only watch as the thickly-packed snow began to cascade from the branches down on top of them. Knowing what was coming, Garran lept to the side narrowly dodging a swipe from the large gnoll but not before the female gnoll caught Garran with her axe on his side.

Garran yelped in pain as the axe slashed into his left side, and he felt warm blood begin to trickle down his abdomen. He stumbled back several feet, out of swiping range, as the snow from the branches did its work. The gnolls were momentarily blocked from view as they were doused in the avalanche from the tree limbs above.

Garran could hear them snarling and swiping at the snow angrily. He looked around for a place to hide but there was none. He was now out in the open and his foes stood between him and his village. He couldn’t outrun them; especially now that he was injured. He’d be lucky if he didn’t bleed out right here.

As the onslaught of the mini avalanche began to settle on the creatures, he could see them starting to emerge from under the tree. They were having to pull their legs free of the now high-piled mounds of snow, so it was taking them some effort. The large gnoll also appeared to have lost one of his axes.

I may die here today but I will die fighting, Garran thought to himself. And for reasons still unknown to him today, he looked at the three creatures stumbling in the snow and charged head-on.

The female had made it the farthest out from under the tree and was the closest to Garran as he ran into the fray. He brought up his hammer hard and landed a critical blow on her lower jaw. She let out a yelp but it was cut short as she was rendered unconscious from the blow. She fell limply into the snow with a plop.

Garran didn’t let up from there. He rounded on the smaller male gnoll that was now howling in anger after seeing his companion fall. Garran--now fueled by anger, determination, and fear for his life--blocked another blow from the large gnoll with his shield, then swung his mace at the smaller gnoll. He connected in the creature’s midsection and heard the gnoll howl in agony as it stumbled back a few feet, grasping its ribcage..

Garran stumbled too. The wound in his side, plus the exhaustion of his trip now taking its toll. The larger gnoll took this opportunity to swing its one remaining axe at Garran, and though Garran was able to get his shield up in time, he felt the thing splinter and crack apart. His left arm now throbbing because of the impact of the blow. He was pretty sure it was broken.

He got his mace up in time to block another blow from the enraged gnoll, and pushed into the block with both hands; his injured arm screaming in protest.

As Garran held his ground, blocking the blow from the large gnoll, he saw the smaller gnoll--now regaining its strength--advancing towards him with pure hatred in its eyes. Just as the small gnoll reached Garran and was preparing to deal what would likely be a mortal blow, there was a swift movement nearby.

Out of the corner of Garran’s eyes, there was a flash of black and white. Garran tried to follow the movement but due to both the effort of staving off the large gnoll, and Garran’s weakened state, he couldn’t follow it. Garran glanced back to where the smaller gnoll was but it now was nowhere to be seen. He tried to look around to see where it had gone but to no avail.

He turned his attention back to the large gnoll still in a battle of strength with him. Garran used his last bit of strength to roll to the side, which forced the gnoll to stumble forward. Seizing this opportunity, Garran advanced quickly and swung his hammer, aiming at the back of the creature’s head.

The large gnoll was too quick for him, however. It spun on its heel, dropped to one knee in the snow, and caught Garran’s blow before it landed. Using Garran’s momentum against him, the large gnoll twisted the mace in Garran’s hand wrenching it from his grasp, and flung Garran to one side all in one fell swoop.

Now completely unarmed, Garran looked around frantically for anything that he could use to defend himself. He felt and dug around in the snow for a rock.. a stick.. anything. Suddenly, his hand brushed up against something long and slender. It was the hilt of something. He grasped it and yanked it free of the snow.

It was the large gnoll’s lost axe! Holding the axe in one hand, Garran struggled to his feet while bracing himself with his injured shield arm.

The large gnoll was closing the gap once again and the smaller gnoll had returned to the fight as well. Garran stood swaying on the spot; unconsciousness threatening to take over at any moment. Garran meant to let out one final howl and charge his foe again but as he lifted his head, the howl came from somewhere else.

At first the wolfkin thought maybe he’d already fallen and he was dreaming with that “out of body” experience he’d heard tribesmen speak of. But, no. Garran listened to the howl. It wasn’t his voice. He looked behind him to find the source of the sound, knowing that he was leaving his front open to attack from the gnolls but he had to see who--or what--this was.

It was a wolfkin, like him. A male wolfkin who also bore the same black and white markings of the Darkfrost Tribe, but his face and hands were predominantly black. The only white that could be seen were wisps of white above his bright blue eyes and along his cheekbones, then flowing down the front of his neckline. The wolfkin was clad in black-dyed leather and had an ornate longbow nocked with an arrow aimed straight at the two advancing gnolls.

Momentarily perplexed by the sudden arrival of the second foe, the gnolls stopped in their tracks and glanced back and forth between this newcomer and Garran.

“Leave now, and you leave with your lives,” growled the wolfkin.

As if testing their new foe’s determination, the larger gnoll took one more step towards Garran and the wolfkin let fly the nocked arrow. The arrow landed with a meaty thud in the shoulder of the large creature. This caused it to screech a cackling howl of pain and drop Garran’s hammer that it had still been holding.

Seeing this, the smaller male finally broke rank and turned tail to run. He stopped at the unconscious female’s body and hoisted her onto his back before bounding off into the snow banks.

The last remaining gnoll, still howling in pain, now let out a frustrated cackle at his companions’ abandonment and turned back to look at the two wolfkin. Garran, ever determined and defiant, still on his feet though he swayed slightly while brandishing the gnoll’s own axe at him.

“Leave now, and live to cackle another day, ay?” said the wolfkin again, still aiming his bow at the gnoll.

The gnoll grasped his shoulder in pain and spat blood one more time onto the packed snow. It snarled one last time menacingly at Garran, spun on its heel and stalked off in the direction of his craven companion.

Garran stood there blinking rapidly, willing himself to stay awake as he watched the gnoll retreat. Once the gnoll was completely out of sight, Garran saw the furry, black face of the other wolfkin come into his field of view. His hearing was fading in and out now and he knew the male was speaking to him but he could only pick up snippets of what the male was saying.

The last thing Garran heard was “... Sius….yours?....don’t look so good,” and then Garran’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, causing his vision to fade to black. Then, he collapsed backward into the snow; unconscious.