Wolves had a hard time clamping down on Thothen’s stone arms. His axe swung as each beast leapt for him. Fur and blood flew as each blow landed home. At times the proximity of the wolves hampered his axe swings which reduced the dwarf to punching the beasts to get them away from the group.
Bright flashes of magic emanated from the rest of the group as the fought off the wolves. Magical fires singed fur as bolts of pure force slammed into the beasts. Wolves hollered in pain as they dropped from the magical onslaught. The battle was as quick as it was fierce. The six young men soon found themselves surround by wolf corpses.
“Everyone ok,” Miirik called out as the last beast was felled.
“We all made it through that one,” Arlin said through gritted teeth as his divine healing magic washed over his own body, closing up gashes in his skin.
“That was a fierce attack,” Gaston said as he held out his arm for Miirik to heal him as well. “I’d hate to admit it, but I bet Jarik was right and that their den is just on the other side of this hill. I’m sure an even more fierce battle is a head of us.”
“I heard that,” Jarik said as prince Arlin healed his wounds. “The great and mighty Gaston admitted that I was right for once. That and one dead wolf means I can have my rapier returned.”
Gaston tossed the sword to Jarik. “Just remember that this weapon isn’t meant to be thrown. It’s more of a stabbing kind of blade.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jarik said. “Just stay out of my way in the future.”
The group made their way through the foliage and crested the hill. In the darkness only Thothen could see the cave which the wolves had used as their den. To aid the eyesight of those that were not dwarves, Firae and Arlin cast spells that illuminated the wands that they held. With the tiny torch-like lights the group entered the cave.