Peering through the underbrush, a curious Garolf, sits in wait.
For days now, the Ankash had stomped to and fro through the forest, leaving naught but a wake of devastation and ruin.
Gerolf has followed this trail for days, and though long though to exist only in legend, these tracks match only those of the fabled Ankash.
He can hardly contains his excitement. Or is that anxiety? Heart beating with the pace of a hare, he takes a deep breath.
In.. out.. he finally works up the necessary courage to try to catch a glimpse of these terrible tree-eaters.
Garolf makes his way through the thick growth.
Listening, now. The thwack, thwack, thwack of their terrible jaws echos in the distance.
A lion on the plain, Garolf steels himself.
A smell, strange, but familiar? He's closing in!
Garolf cannot restrain himself. He bursts through one last thicket and into a clearing.
Breath catching in his chest, mind spinning, he staggers to a stop.
~Are these truly Ankash?~
Speechless, Garolf raises a hand in greeting.
~They're so ... small.~
"Friend." he calls.
The Ankash turn.
"Stag's cock! 'N what're you s'posed ta be?"