I did (and am probably still doing) free short stories for people. Go see the Journal Here! for more information.

World, cities, and story © Me

Wolfletech ©  wolfletech

For those who don't have word, here is the story.

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Spring had sprung, such as it was. A layer of overly moist snow slouched on the budding green foliage in the clearing located not far south from Pellicivit, a medium sized town situated between the mountains and directly on top of a well traveled trade route, bringing spices up from the southern warm water port to the cold northern capitals.

The snow was pristine, haven fallen the last night, with few tracks through it. This was quickly changed as the grey and green wolf stepped heavily into a mound on the edge of the clearing, then deftly hopped out into the sundrenched green patch of grass in the center.

His name was Wolfletech, a native to the northern capitals, now returning from his travels to visit his family of which he had not seen in over a year. He was strapped with a multitude of bags, all of different sizes, gears and handles lashed against the outside. Inside the bags rattled hundreds of specialized bolts and mechanical objects, fitted with jewels and magic known only to far off lands and islands.

He flicked his ears, green inside as the foliage around him, and slung down one of the bags lashed to his hip. Opening it, he pulled out a small telescoping spyglass; clacked it open and put it up to an emerald eye. Below the clearing, through a large growth of pine trees and underbrush, lay a well worn road leading to Pellicivit, several miles north.

Wolfletech was normally a very social creature, and a pack leader back home. However something had sent the hairs on his tail a-bristle when he spotted the group moving far in the distance on the road coming from Pellicivit. A normal traveler might have dismissed these fears, but too many years on the road had taught him not to ignore his senses. He kept his spyglass trained on the path below, watching for the group to pass, his dark gray tail swayed as he stood, otherwise still. His sensitive ears could already hear the rumble of the marching troupe, but it was several minutes before the appeared on the road below.

It was a large formation, filling the road and spilling slightly off into the unchecked dirt on either side. Those leading the troupe were mounted on feral horses and fiercely armored, with black metals trimmed with silvery inlays, behind them marched an equally foreboding mass on foot. Less ornamental armor, but still sporting fearsome spikes and snarling maws for visors.

It was the middle of the troupe that caught his attention, and made him involuntarily crouch among the snow around him. A mass of chained and bleeding prisoners, forced to march by spear point. Some of them wore what appeared to be leathers designed to be under plate armor. What caught his eye was the emblem on most of their chests; the guard of Pellicivit.

The wind shifted and started flowing from the north, and the smell of burning filled his nostrils...

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