6 Howl in the Night

A man rushes along trampling undergrowth and breaking through low hanging branches; His sides ache with fatigue from sucking in air. A canopy of pine needles and leaves sway in the wind obscuring the two moons arching overhead. A howl pierces through the night, and the man wakes up. His hand instinctually grabs for one of his handaxes; His ears perk up searching for any telltale signs. After several pounding minutes, his body relaxes just enough to sleep.

He wakes up later seemingly knowing that his ten minutes are up. The air hangs in silence as he rolls up the sleeping mat.

He thinks, "Shouldn't be too far now. A bunch of amateurs like this are to careless." He stands, after packing, taking in the smells of the wilderness. He turns facing toward a scent that is out of place: sweat, iron, smoke, and charred flesh.

"HAHA! Yo Marl! What are you staring out at? Get over here or you're gonna lose your share!" Marl looks back at his compatriot. He walks over to the fire and grabs a stick.

"Hanz", he takes a bite from the meat, "don't you think it's a little too quiet? I don't hear any birds or even the chirping of bugs for that matter."

"Huh? Marl, why you have to go and say something like that? You're ruining this festive night of ours." The other men surrounding the campfire nod in agreement. Though, a few do look towards the forest in concern. The mood picks back up when one of the guys pops open one of the chests, they relieved a traveler of.

A howls echoes over the jovial group. Each man tenses up, not daring to move, when a corpse lands in the middle atop the campfire.