Yan leaned on his shovel, foot propping it up, and squinted against the noon sun. He wiped the sweat dripping from his brow and poured water from his leather bladder over his head and bare chest. Steam rising from his sun burned flesh. He turned back toward the men still hard at work digging the ditch.

“Shepherd,” one of them called. A tall portly man burned red under the heat of the sun.

“Yes Spearman,” he replied.

“You tired already?”

“We can’t all be as big and strong as you,” Yan said.

“Not my fault your people are so small.”

“We’re not small,” Tethera said, “you’re just big.”

“Not among the Einjar I’m not,” the spearman said. “I’m average sized.”

“Now that Drognad we’re hunting, he’s a big one,” a stout spearman added.

“Don’t go scaring the locals, Evin,” the large one said.

“Who’s scared? We’re just well aware of the dangers,” Tethera said.

“He’s scared,” Evin said.

“No time for Lolly gagging,” bellowed a commanding voice. “Ken, Evin, the lot of you. Back to work. Lamb Hill won’t save itself.”

“Yes Worthy Sir Solamo,” Ken said.

“Look what you caused, Tethera,” Yan said.

“Me?” Tethera said, “you’re the one who started it.”

The assembled men got back to digging their ditch. Twenty men in all, shepherds and milites both, excavating the side of a hill covered in tall trees. The trap was nearly ready.

“You men,” the squire pointed to the shepherds helping his men, “fetch the spikes and line the floor, pointy side up.”

The shepherds walked with their elder, Hothera, and approached the milite cook fire. They sat in a circle on the ground to eat supper and unpacked their meals of mutton pies with beets, carrots, and peas.

“The ditch is prepared, everything is ready,” the elder said to the gathered milites.

“Spikes pointy side up?” Evin said.

“Yes,” Hothera said, “and the caltrops are set around the ditch as well. Snares are tied to the surrounding trees and Nick has the dogs ready.”

"Make sure the dogs don't get too close." Ken added, "terriers are only good for a distraction for this prey." 

"Hounds would be better," Yan said.

The Squire looked up from his bowl of smoked pork, wheat bread, and cheese for the first time. "Only if properly trained," he said. He took a bite of bread, "their natural tactics of surrounding and taking turns charging would get them killed. One must overwhelm the Drognad and attack all at once. Aim for the throat and drag it down, they can slow their hearts and stop the bleeding, so big wounds are a must."

"With all due respect Guardian Squire Solamo," Hothera took a sip of beer, "we know the threat we face. The men of woolpack are not to be trifled with."

"So you've hunted Drognad before then?"

"Well, no."

"Then you've at least seen this one at work?" Evin said.

Tethera cut in, "none of us have actually seen it."

Arlo leaned in, with a steady voice full of gravel he said, "with their fur, muscle, and fat they are near invulnerable, can run as fast as any horse on a straight dash while on all fours, and take down prey larger than themselves. They can smell food from the other side of the hill and discern movement from nearly half as far. Consider yourselves lucky it's only a solitary male we must contend with, and not a female with cubs."

Yan went pale in his seat, "how do you know it's a lone male?"

"Curved claws on the tracks and trees instead of straight," the Squire said. "And all the same size."

"You all seem very well versed," Hothera said.

Arlo said, "this isn't our first hunt." He removed his barbute helm, exposing his scarred face and scalp. Hair growing around the old wounds in sparse tufts keeping him from having a full beard. The sweat on his bald head, gnarled and rough, glistened in the late afternoon sun.

"We trust your judgement," Hothera said.

"And thank you for your aid," Tethera added.

"It is our duty," the Squire said. "Now, tell me how goes the rest of the plan?"

"With every eve this senight we’ve lost a ewe." Hother said. "With none in the pasture tonight, Yan will make for the only meal option. He'll be headed to the top of the hill wearing a wool fleece with a pouch of raw honeyed lamb around his neck."

“His knowledge of the land should keep him ahead of the Drognad as it chases him downhill,” Tethera said.

“Then, gods willing, it falls in the ditch and lies down to die," Yan added.

"Our best laid plans," the squire said. "Why you?" Solamo turned to Yan. "Aren't you a bit young and new to the flock?"

"It's true I was only hired at last year’s mopfair, don't even have my own fleece cloak yet," he said. "But I'm a local. Been running these hills since childhood."

"And he feels some fault for these bad tidings," Hothera said.

"Did you summon this beast?" Ken said.

"Might as well have," Hothera said. "The first lamb born this season was his. It was black of wool."

"And it came out facing away from me," Yan added, "double bad luck."

"Superstitious nonsense," the squire said.

"He's no more at fault than if a mountain lion or bear were to pass by," Arlo said.

"Don't say their names. It could bring them upon us," Tethera said.

"Let them come," Evin said.

A cool breeze rustled the trees, breaking the eerie silence of the warm evening air. Yan let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and looked back. His fellow shepherds and the spearmen hiding in the bushes at the edge of the clearing, bowmen in a line behind them. The assembled men stood ready, eagerly anticipating dusk, when the Drognad would emerge from its cave. He continued up the hill to face the danger he brought onto his fellows.

“What was that?” Yan said. “Wonderful, now I’m talking to myself.”

A distant groan startled the night. The birds took flight from the trees. Yan gripped his horn, ready to blow it. His ears perked with every sound, the pounding of his own heart threatening to deafen him. Fingers swollen with heat tightened around his horn. His weight shifting as he prepared to spring into action.

A creature larger than any he’d seen before emerged from the tree line. Like a short legged furry man, hunched over, it walked on all fours and must have weighed 500 lbs. Its elongated face, vaguely resembling a man’s, was thrust into the air. It had his scent.

With a frantically drawn breath, he blew into his horn and took off on a dead run. Winding around the trees in a meandering path at high speed. Mere steps ahead of a raging massive body of muscle and fur, grotesque face twisted in a snarl. Its body building momentum with every step.

Yan let out a pained, “yip,” as the chasing fangs caught up to his hindquarters for a moment. The edge of the clearing was in sight. A scream of triumph came between labored breaths. He grabbed at a hanging rope and swung up and away from his pursuer. Who, in turn, turned its gaze upwards and ran straight into the waiting pit.

A loud squishy thud arose with a pained scream. Transitioning into an enraged roar. A bloody hand grasped at the loose earth of the edge. Claws finding purchase. That ugly face came up over the edge, eyes focused upwards. Heavy arms, thick with fur, bore the weight of a hulking body up the side and leaned into the caltrops. With another pained yell, the Drognad fell backwards into the pit.

Yan swung to the far side of the pit, coming down the rope. He landed in a sweaty pile, heavy breaths leaving him strained. Rising to his feet, he turned back to the pit. He could see claws pulling at the edges.

“Help, I need help,” he called.

A volley of arrows was loosed. Direct hits, all of them. Another volley came, hitting home again, and another. The Drognad showed no affect. Now fully out of the pit, standing bloodied and punctured, wheezing snarls escaped its maw. It dropped to all fours, stepped toward Yan, weight shifting to prepare for a pounce.

Yan looked around the clearing for help. His heart pounding in his ears. His breath came short and fast. He wiped his sweaty palms on his shirt, legs trembling. A bark drew his gaze, eyes darting.

Four terriers rushed at the Drognad, Nick holding their leashes. They stopped short of it, barking and growling. The milites and shepherds stepped out from the bushes, squire in the lead with an extra spear. They leveled their spears on approach. They surrounded the creature in a semi-circle, but kept their distance. The Squire came to stand before Yan, second spear outstretched.

Yan took the offered spear and gripped it tight. Focus set on his features, he took a steadying breath. His eyes locked on his target, heart thumping with every step, he pushed in on the Drognad. Black eyes met his gaze, face contorted into a sneer. The line of spears took one purposeful step after another.

From the side, a form rushed forward. Nick lunged with his spear high, striking the Drognad in the shoulder. It grabbed the shaft and pulled the barer in close. A terrier nipped at the Drognads ankle. With an absent-minded kick, the terrier was ripped open, blood and guts spilled out. Fangs bore down on Nick, hot breath on his cheek.

“Pull the dogs back,” the Squire ordered.

A spear ripped into its side, clenching its jaws. It pulled back, taking an ear with it. Another spear hit the Drognad squarely in the neck. Bloody gore spilling out. The line advanced, pushing the raging beast toward the pit. Its gurgled roar seemed to echo in the trees. The few remaining birds took flight.

With the Drognad backed up to the edge of the pit again, archers loosed another volley. The striking projectiles pushed it further back. A thunderous crash dropped them all to their knees. Yan looked over his shoulder to see an archer being mauled by what could’ve been this creatures twin. His lower jaw and neck disappearing in a spray of blood. All the archers turned their attention to the second monstrosity.

At such close range, the archers dropped their bows and drew swords. They were well within range of its raking claws. Half the line of spears turned to face the rear. They rushed for the second creature, it was tearing at the archers around it.

Yan ran to Nick, “Can you stand?”

“I’m, um, yes.”

“Get your feet under you then.”

Nick turned over to brace his weight, dropping the leashes to the ground. With nothing to hold them back, the terriers lunged forward. Snarling and biting, they spread out between the beast and the line of spears. Lunging in turn, they snapped at its heels and calves.

Tethera stepped up, reached for the nearest lead, and hit a trip wire. His leg pulled out from under him. He went heels over head, straight up, and dangled in place, screaming. But he managed to hold onto his spear.

“Get those mutts back,” Arlo said.

“Push passed them,” the Squire said.

Tetheras shrill screams pierced the frenzy of the night. Yan left Nicks side to find the traps base. He approached him, arms raised to placate his fright, and touched him by the shoulder.

“Stop your hollering,” Yan said. “I’ll have you down in a moment.”

 Another scream, Yan whirled toward the battle and saw the hulking beast gaining ground toward him. From above his head, Tethera plunged his spear forward. Catching the Drognad in the neck. Evin grabbed hold of the spear and jostled it, widening the wound. Blood spurt everywhere.

“Now Ken,” Arlo said. He pushed with all his might, forcing the Drognad to reel back.

“Clear,” Ken bellowed. He shouldered the wounded creature in the gut, lifting, and draping it over his back. Every step toward the pit hard fought. Foot claws slashed at his gambeson and jerkin, fangs grazed his barbute, and clawed hands gouged at the earth.

A body fell ahead of Yan. He looked down to see a bloody mangled mess. But a familiar mess, wearing an archers uniform. He looked back and saw the twin Drognad charging toward them, rage filled syllables escaping its toothy maw.

“Look out,” he called.

Ken was at the edge of the pit, Drognad raised high. Its limbs flailing meekly, with no purchase. He heaved with considerable might. The Drognad seemed to be caught in invisible molasses, moving slowly over the pit. Its twin barreled past the spearmen and leapt skyward. Snatching its brother from the sky and cradling him as they plummeted to the spike filled pit.

Yan joined the others standing at the edge. The twin was skewered on several spikes. Puncturing his throat, chest, belly, and groin. Life blood pooling beneath. The first was on the ground, stirring slightly. The squire swung his spear butt down on its head. A sickening squelch cracked through the night. All fell silent.

“That was,” Hothera said. The words dying on his lips.

“Yeah,” Yan agreed.

“You all did well,” Evin said.

“Thanks for the shout,” Ken added.

“Just glad to help,” Yan said.

They turned to survey the carnage, half the archers were down. Those left were picking themselves up, bloodied and bruised, but alive.

“Can someone please let me down now?” Tethera said from above.