Quax and Chris were busy climbing up the steep rocky cliff. Chris' wooden bow and quiver of arrows dangled behind his back as he climbed. While Quax's bag remained tightly attached to his tiny back.
Pieces of rocks fell off the cliff the two were climbing, tumbling down through the air, and falling all the way down to the ground far below.
The dark bloodhounds stood wandering on the flat ground below the cliff. There were seven of them on the ground, and they paced hungrily around the ground. Each of their two heads was craned upwards towards the two climbing the cliff.
Their mouths were wide open and they barked and barked, exposing their dark sharp teeth.
The bloodhounds only hoped that one of the two could slip and fall, then they'd tear them into pieces even before they reached
