Fed to the Wolves

Cyrus settled down by the campfire and calmly let his breath out. He stared at the grandeur of the Barrier Mountains. The tallest mountains in the west, he thought. Impossible to cross this time of year. He once again crouched low and began to breathe slowly. Tapping in to the air surrounding him.

With a simple release he was taken away and, once again, tried to feel his way to the entrance of the mountain, but yet again something barred him. Some mysterious force blocked his bath. He tried to focus in order to break through, yet to no avail.

He once again felt the rush of evil emanating from the mountain. His chest felt tight and his extremities went cold. A foul smell filled his lungs. He heard screaming. Death. He felt, for the first time in a long time.

He snapped out of the exercise and once more returned to his body. Nirick approached him. "What did you see, wizard?"

"A great evil," he replied flatly. "I can't help but feel we're about to be fed to wolves once we enter."

Nirick chuckled. "That may very well be true."

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