Seth’s Bothy

Idwal Series

Sergs Bothy 600x600

Chapter Two

[dropcap]T[/dropcap]he youth drifted in that twilight zone between asleep and awake; his mind trying to comprehend the information being gathered by  his senses. He lay still, tightly bound by some wrapping which limited movement. He was not cold, feeling the warmth his own body generated. Memories came flooding back of being intently cold; so cold that all he wanted was to lay down and  rest. Now he was rested, but where?
Slowly opening his eyes, he perceived a dim light that emanated from the corner of the chamber. Rock walls and ceiling, he though he must be inside some cave or underground grotto. He became aware that the wrapping round his body appeared to be silver in color. Was he encased in some sort of cocoon, a victim of a giant spider, kept in a larder until readied for the feast? Looking at their wall an ominous shadow loomed. No arachnid. More a lycanthrope atop man’s body; wolf-man. Either way, the prospect of being served for lunch loomed large.
The youth tried to role onto his side to set  better view. The effort set off a deep throbbing behind his left temple, reminding him of the fall he endured the previous day. he struggled to free an arm. Touching the spot, he involuntarily whined at the jolt of pain. The head of wolf-man turned. It took every ounce of effort not to scream as the head separated from the body and began to move in his direction.
Two large red eyes, inches from his face, stared back. Stale breath invaded he lad’s nostrils, a breath tinged with the smell of raw meet. A shiver went down the prostrate figure’s back, for despite the dim light, he could see the blab]ck and white hair of the animal’s coat standing on end. Apprehensively, he watched as canine teeth bared white. A menacing low growl emanated, deep within the beast’s throat. “Urrrrrrrrr!”
“Easy girl,” a voice commanded, from the headless form. The wolf became quiet, backing off three paces, before laying on the ground snout resting on front paws.. Slowly, the lad turned his head away, to seek the source of the voice. An elderly man, hair and beard almost as white as the snow outside, squatted over a pot heating on some kind of fire the like the youth had never seen before. “Finally awake, huh? You had me worried for a while, young shaver. Fancy some stew?
Beth wnaethoch chi ei ddweud? Dwi ddim yn deall.”

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