Dragoncrest Cliffs the world's grave. not ours.

for every dog knocked aside, another came.

gnats! the lot of them! shardik bellowed, rearing upon his hind legs with a throaty roar to the skies.

in shardik's life, he had always dealt pain. he'd been the great inflicter, the judge -- and now, wolves came to his summons and delivered their own judgment: one of blood and death.

live by the sword, die by the sword; shardik would meet his end with no quarter.

he knew not the name of the brown cur that had come for his throat and seized it -- when he smacked her away, a warm looseness spilled from his throat. shardik's snarls lost their power and became liquid gurgles, cut short by the severance of his chords.

he stumbled forward, drunken with both bloodloss and fury. when a pale wolf came too close shardik's talons cut him down as if he were a dandelion's head -- a cackle gurgled from the bear's bloodied gums, which now boasted a frothy rime of pink from the severance within.

he was seized again, this time by a wolf darkened by a red tail. shardik continued his reckless charge, feeling agony for every bite that njord and erzulie delivered.

shardik's lunges became erratic as great gouts of blood spilled from his throat and dribbled from his mouth. he lost his coordination, stumbling -- the wolves beneath and around him blurry as they darted again and again, overcoming him.

no! he was shardik, ruiner of wolves -- he would surely never die to such beasts! --

but he did. at last the great bear fell mid-swing. his body toppled to the blood-soaked ground with a soft thud, while white snow fell gently around him and a dark halo of blood spilled from beneath.