Page 6 - SagaOfBarak2

These as next, the intrepid, though somewhat foot weary adventurers later
encountered on their trek, a pair of huge sabre toothed mountain lions.
Naturally, in the run of things these beasts of course were great savage creatures.
Here were hunters which hailed from the long distant past, great powerful cats,
things which were masters of the stealthy prowl and well thought out ambush.
Aye, also a little unnervingly these huge stealthy felines, nevertheless had in
mind the very same dining intentions as that of the forest wolves.
But Barak, he of course being a most enlightened sort of fellow knew only too
well these great man eaters of the high snow capped mountains still existed.
Yes, this even though these huge creatures should have gone on, dying out
thousands and thousands of years ago, still the slayer knew otherwise.
For whatever the reason, somehow or other these primeval beasts against all
the odds had nevertheless lived on.
Scattered here and there all about these cold hostile mountain ranges, small
pockets of these massive cats still roamed, prowling freely just as they had done
forever.
Here in their mountain domain these cats silently, furtively stalked, remaining
hidden and unseen ready to pounce until alas for their prey it was to late for any
escape.
Because of their size and strength these great things hunted all and everything,
often thriving upon the flesh of men or anything else for that matter, ranging
from mountain goats to even large bears which were unlucky enough to cross
their path.
Barak’s followers, right up until the point of encountering these sabre toothed
lions or tigers or whatever these things were.
Well, secretly and silently all of the Norsemen doubted these beasts very
existence.
True it was that the big Barak in all honesty had enlightened the Norsemen of
such dangers whilst sitting around their evening campfires.
However though, well, the slayer at times did often like to tell the odd far fetched
story, this just to while away the cold nights.
With this being so, then down to a man, the Norsemen thought these great felines
were no more than some sort of imagined things, ghostly fables, aye no more
than folklore.
All of this as Barak when once full of his black weed and with a gut full of
vodka inside him, as just said did like to tell the odd yarn to pass the time away
whilst sitting about the campfire.
With all of this being so, then mayhap these were merely cunning tales set out
to keep them on their toes, aye only stories to keep them alert and keep them
vigilant.

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