As the sun had started illuminating the forest, Scar woke up. Something had knocked the door of the hut. A black beady eye peered through the window hole and Scar stared in relief. It was Tide, the sparrow carrier, with a note from their father to say that camp had been destroyed by the Spirits and had been following their footsteps that had printed in the snow. They had no time to waste. Scar checked the map and with Tide’s help, the courageous pack of wolves set off, heading the North East.

As they began walking, the forest was soundless. There had been a snow storm during the night and the snow had covered the bushes and twigs making it difficult to walk. Icicles as sharp as blades hung down from trees. The wind howled, viciously cold. Scar knew that the Spirits could track them with ease because their movements would be tracked in the snow. At midday, they passed the Rough Rolling River, the wolves froze. Ahead, they could just see the shadow of what had to be the Watch Tower. 

Hours later, the fatigued pack found themselves admiring the walls of the Watch Tower. Ferocious giant guards protected the entrance, their apple green eyes glowed. So his younger siblings would be safe, Scar led them behind the tower where a rock hut stood.

The foul smell spread through the tunnel but Scar was in the lead until they reached the otherside. The Village Of Giants was a suitable place to hide. The Spirits wouldn’t be accepted and as long as the wolves weren’t caught they’d be safe.

At twilight, Scar located the perfect hiding spot. Down the alley, he found a cabin with bamboo mats. It was immaculate and was an excellent place to sleep. Outside, snowflakes brushed the cabin. Inside, Scar, Sapphire and Scratch were stressed as they didn’t know if they’d see their parents. Soon, Scratch snoozed in between his siblings.

Scar sneaked out into the alleyway. They needed food. He stayed to the shadows and glanced round. Snorts and snarls through the tranquility as the giants bickered. A couple of them passed the cabin on their way to the Black Tavern; their singing worse than a ghost screaming. On the other side, one con-artist made a rat disappear  after its death. Scar gulped. The Spirits were dreadful; giants ere as awful. From an abandoned shop, Scar took: apple pies, a loaf of bread, red cheddar cheese, half a kilogram of dried berries & nuts, cooked salmon and 5 litres of water. At least they didn’t have to worry about food.

That second, a drunk man with ***** eyes yelled from his window “ What are yer doin yer numbskull”.

Keeping himself in the shadows, sweat trickled down his furry face, Scar paused. A silhouette was coming to him. He could hear their footsteps beating down. The silhouette moved. A blood red eye glinted. 

All of the mountain giants picked up tarnished daggers and began to make their way towards the silhouette. Panicking, Scar wished that he wouldn’t be seen.