Illamnodrid's Defeat

A silent cry sounded high
At the edge of the forest dead
Above the curving shores of Lyria
Where the waters spread
Closer, ever closer
Past bushes, caves and trees,
Onto the barren grey cliffs
Above the foaming black seas
There in the middle of night
A battle was fought
Our numbers were many paws
But still ambushes were sought
Because a demon blood-red
Had invaded what was ours
Slashing his tail and curving his claws
He unearthed trees as high as towers
One after one
The pack lost it's members
And all the while the blood reflected 
in his eyes burning like embers
Help was far away 
And our hope grew dim
When we saw loved ones perish
Too wounded to help fight him
Finally, only one of us
Was left standing proud
But not ready to die was he
Illamnodrid, the scout
Options warred in his mind
None was what this young wolf craved
Dead or Dishonour?
Which path should be braved?
He did what was noble
and fought the demon giant
But the red fury wasn't impressed
By this wolf defiant
At last Ilamnodrid vanished
Badly wounded and afraid
Ever hunted by feelings of inadequacy
He sought a way back to date
Nowhere in time and space
His thirst for honour could be quenched
He would not rest until
His craven deed was revenged

The mother wolf stopped her histories. She looked down at her two small cubs as they were looking up, battles and honour reflected in their eyes.
"Don't stop!" the boy cried, "Did Daddy get revenge?"
"Why don't you ask him that for yourself?" ??? said.

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Lyria and Illamnodrid were borrowed from Keltic Spirit Glade.
Images copyrighted to their owners.