Written in the Stars: Book 2 of the "Written" Duology

Cannon Fodder

Randall didn't know where he was. He was pacing in his mind restlessly; he couldn't shift back and this was worrying him. Never had he experienced this, and it was terrifying being locked in his own mind, not being able to do anything.

Greybeard was furious; he was gnashing his teeth and howling with rage in their joined mindset. He was restless, and desperately wanted to rip a throat or two out. And Randall didn't try to talk him out of those thoughts, because he too wanted that.

"Don't worry, we'll have time to do that later," Randall thought into his consciousness. Greybeard only growled in response.

I cannot move. The voice said, jumbled and almost incoherent. Greybeard's voice was almost like Randall's, but gruffer and gravely. Restricted.

Randall didn't know what he meant by that, but was troubled all the same. Greybeard's memory flashed before Randall; the Knight was sharing his latest memory with his Champion.

Running through the forest, Greybeard followed his nose, relying on it more than ever to find who had done his pack wrong. They were gonna pay.

He slowed to a quick trot, looking around wearily. He smelled the foul and pitiful creatures as if they were right in front of him.

Greybeard stopped, scanning the forest line with eyes that never failed him in all his years. He saw movement to his left, his eyes snapping over in that direction.

He gave a gruff growl and stalked slowly forward, sniffing the air.

Something whizzed past his ear. Flicking his ear, Greybeard gave it no thought as he leapt forward on where it had come from.

In mid-leap, three more sounds emerged from the silence; and they sounded from behind. Greybeard barely registered the pinpricks of pain coming from his back when he landed heavily in front of a man dressed in earthy colors.

Pitiful creature, Greybeard thought before he leaned forward, jaws open, and... fell?

His body thumped on the ground, causing it to shake with his weight. Greybeard struggled to stand up, arms feeling leaden and heavy.

He vaguely processed four more noises and four more pricks of pain on his back. He saw a dozen figures emerge from the tree line, all holding something in their hands that looked like sticks.

Snarling when they got closer, Greybeard struggled again to get up. He heard footsteps coming from behind him.

Pack. He thought, struggling even harder to get up to try and protect them.

The pitiful creatures must have heard them, too, because they were going back to their positions as they were in once before.

Greybeard couldn't do anything but breathe and growl.

He saw out of his peripheral who was walking up to him; it was Spitfire's Champion—the one that Greybeard's Champion was fond of. The one that he saw as a mother.

"Oh my God, Randall," Was what he heard the Redhead said. Greybeard's eyes looked up at the female, then saw behind her one of the pitiful creatures emerge with their deadly stick pointed right at her. He started to growl in warning, but it was too late, she was struck.

Trying to thrash against this unseen power that's holding him, Greybeard was forced to watch as his leader, Tundra's Champion, was struck down as well as his packmate, Timber's Champion, and the rouge wolf, Stargazer's Champion. He wasn't worried about Stargazer, as he wasn't part of Greybeard's pack; Greybeard was more worried about Tundra and his Champion, Timber and his Champion, and Spitfire's Champion, and it pained him to see them like this.