The wind howled across the mountains, driving sheets of white before it. Urgon crouched in the snow, ready to spring into action, watching his prey—a stout, woolly goat with a massive set of horns. It would have been an easy kill had he a bow, but in his rush to flee Ord-Dugath, he had left without one. So now he waited, shivering, with his spear in hand instead.
His prey moved closer, seemingly oblivious to his presence. His muscles tensed as he prepared to rise up and throw his weapon. The goat raised its head, suddenly on the alert. Urgon knew he would have only one chance at this. He staggered to his feet, weighed down as he was by the thick furs that fought to keep the chill at bay.
He chucked the spear, throwing with all his might, but the goat bounded away, disappearing into the b
