It hadn't been his first time camping in the woods. However, it was the first time he saw himself surrounded by wolves.
Six feet tall, Baldric was a robust, hard man, with a great light brown beard covering his face and no hair to cover his head. His almond shaped eyes were a mixture of blue and gray and his nose, atop his slim lips, was big and round. His hands were wide and his arms long and strong, just like his legs. He had broad shoulders and a muscular chest. Most men found his presence intimidating. He wished wolves thought the same as those men. He decided to come to Pinetree Hill shortly after leaving the river bank back in Pinetree Valley. He stayed there almost a week and he never saw a single wolf, so he never imagined finding a whole pack up here. It had been almost a year since he left his home to become an adventurous young man, crossing the country to contact with nature, trying to find his true self and, he hoped, the purpose of life. On this journey, he met lots of good people, lots of bad people and many different, marvelous animals, including bears and venomous snakes. But not wolves, never wolves. He made camp next to a big rock covered in moss, on a plain grassed circle, surrounded by pine-trees. His green tent was big enough "for two", though he barely fitted inside it alone. On that night he had cooked a fish he caught in the river, roasting it in the fire he made, after collecting wood he cut down with the axe he carried everywhere. He was about to have his first bite when he heard a snarl coming from the dark woods. He raised his head and saw yellow eyes approaching him slowly, until the light from the fire revealed them to belong to a big, fierce black wolf. More wolves appeared, very slowly, sniffing the air around, but only the first one was snarling. Baldric got up very slowly and looked around him. The axe was too far for him to reach it and the wolf too close for him to run. He lifted his arms up in the air, slowly, hoping it made him look bigger and the wolf might run. It didn't work. He counted the wolves. Nine they were. He was sweating and his heart was beating fast. He was scared. Don't be a fool, they won't eat you. This is their territory and they just want the fish. When he decided to grab the fish and throw it to them that was when all of the wolves started to snarl angrily and the black one jumped on top of him. He fell on his back and put his left arm in front of his face, trying to protect it from the wolf's sharp teeth. As the wolf bit him and the blood dripped from his arm, Baldric tried to reach his axe, with no success. He punched the wolf between its eyes and it let go his arm. Getting up, Baldric seized the fish and threw it quickly in the opposite direction and, as the wolves fell for the bait, he ran through the woods, pressing his bleeding arm with his right hand. He glimpsed back and saw some of the wolves were chasing him, but he couldn't say how many. I can't stop, I can't stop. He was panting. If I stop, I'll die. From the midst of the trees, he saw little yellow and white lights. A city, a village. When he cut his way in their direction, he came upon a cliff, the end of the hill. He looked down and, thirty feet below, he saw the road that led to the city, about three miles afar. He turned around and saw three running wolves getting closer and closer. He closed his eyes noticing the silence around him and the cool breeze of the night upon his face. Then, he jumped off the cliff, hearing only the sound of the air upon his ears as he fell and the distant howling of a wolf, far above him.
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