Blur light broadened on four dwarves on a fishing boat close to the shore of Nevada Sea. It was getting dark when a sudden strong tidal wave approached them and capsized their fishing boat. Luckily for them, the tide did not carry them to its depth despite how miniature they seemed in stature. When they managed to get out of the water, they gathered whatever was left of their blennioid fish at the shore into individual baskets. Their fishing poles were three times their height, and they had lost them to the tides. As they stood at the shore cleaning sand from their bodies and their long curly hair, they cursed the tides before they decided to stroll back home. After a mile, they behold a wolf. A giant white fur wolf with jaws separated showing her sharp tooth and tongue dripping blood, nose running all over a lad that has debris and plant leaves on him. The dwarves stood still as their eyes caught the wolf. The snow-like sand soiled with splashes of thick blood, so much so that even the lad who had his face downward was immensely sprayed. The giant wolf's dark steel claws have thick blood on them, and behind her, dead soldiers identified as barbarian scouts and their horses were shredded into pieces like waste clothing. Seeing the dwarves with her glowing red eyes, she suddenly pounced away from the lad and began growling as she moved forward with slow, powerful paces. Her growls were very deep, terrifying, and boundless as she began sniffing, smearing, snarling, savouring, and cycling the dwarves. The dwarves cleaved to one another as their baskets of blennioid carelessly dropped from their hands. Their hearts beat heavily and too fast. Thick sweats drip from their bodies with visible vapour ascending from their curly hairs. Their legs are shaky. Mouths vibrating. Hands fidgeting. Their countenance is way beyond that of a crying newborn baby. In-between the pants of one, shameless urine turtled its way down. They had no metal, so they stood frozen, cleaving on to each other as their fixed gaze rested on the huge ferocious beast smearing, snarling, savouring and cycling them. A raven flees from the black mountain path into the woods, making croaking sounds before perching on a sycamore tree branch to watch the ferocious giant wolf attempt to pounce on the dwarves. Quickly, a young dwarf came dashing out from the black mountain path holding a crossbow arrow. The giant wolf turned towards the black mountain; her glowing red eyes quickly caught the young dwarf in a black cloak as he approached her with calculated footsteps.
"Go away, you bloody beast!"
"Shush...go away from them now!"
"Go away now"
"I got this, and I'm going to use it on ya"
"Any unwise show of strength and I will send this steel arrow down your fucking throat!".
The dwarf says moving forward fearlessly with his crossbow arrow, ignoring the growling giant wolf as she moves about in a cycle and stands facing him while he positions his crossbow for a shot. The young dwarf makes both head signs and hand signs depicting the wolf to go away, and grudgingly, after a loud, long howling, the beast slowly retracted and then ran into the woods, causing the raven to flutter away. The four dwarves broke down in tears before running to the young dwarf and they lifted him up. As they brought him down, they tapped on his head, kissed his hair and his cheeks and embraced him wholeheartedly.
"Oh' my goodness. Let the land gods be praised. Bless you, Berit. You have saved us all from pitiable death." Bekker burst out with a heavy sigh of relief.
"Good boy! Come here, son. I'm proud of you." His father, Tumo called out to him.
"Thank you, Berit." Harry added.
Falip took Berit by the hand, saying, "All hail to the wolf tamer! All hail to the hero, Berit! Who's with me when I say, ale and mutton for the hero?"
"Ale and mutton for the hero!" They all retorted in ecstasy.
"That's it, boy...our young hero. Some ale, food for you at home, and even if you want..." Falip goes silent and whispers into Berit's ear, "....even if you want women, I can arrange that."
"I heard that, Falip." Tumo said while Berit giggled.
"Heard what? I didn't say anything odd."
"Mmm, mmm. Don't spoil my boy, fella. He's too young for you to wish him your desires."
"Alright…. Alright, never again, my dear friend."
"You're the true son of your father. I'm proud of you, Berit. Take a look at the mess the wolf made out of these barbarian scouts. Their faces were unrecognisably disfigured." Bekker added.
"What about him, sire? Is he alive?" Berit asked, seeing the lad for the first time. They stood waiting for the lad to move, but he would not. They all began making noisy sounds with their mouths to see if the lad would move, but he did not.
"He's obviously dead. Let's go; we have a hero to celebrate." Tumo said overjoyed as he carried the basket of scanty blennioid after objecting to his son, who had earlier attempted to carry it, and he began walking. Berit, relieved of that duty, followed his father from behind, leaving the others there.
"I think we should go. Tumo said the lad is dead. There is no point waiting here if we can't do anything." Falip added as he removed his hand from Bekker's shoulder.
"How are you sure he is?" Harry asked.
"Can't you see with your eyes? He's dead. There are better things to do than wasting time here. Beside Berit just saved our lives we shouldn't give it away to the barbarian scouts that might come and see us here, except you have a better explanation for this." Falip said, pointing at the torn barbarian scouts and their horses.
"But they won't." Replied Harry.
"Says, who…YOU? Of all people, Harry …You?. Don't make me laugh, the last time I checked, you pissed on your pants in your hideout when they were scouting this same sea some time ago." Said Falip, laughing very hard, then continued, "Maybe you should take a look at your pants... you pissed on your pants seeing that wolf. Still, it didn't even occur to you. We should be grateful to that little boy for saving our lives, fellas." Falip said in a more serious manner and then tugged Bekker and Harry, and then shouted, "Tumo, my friend, would you wait for me? You are walking too fast for an old man." He said and quickly followed Tumo.
"Last time I checked, you are the only old person amongst us." Tumo replied from a distance.
"My wife believes I look younger than you three put together." Falip whispered into Tumo's ear, and both laughed away, leaving Bekker and Harry at the sea shore.
"I'm so sorry for the unfunny statements by Falip". Bekker apologised.
"There is nothing to be apologetic about. It is what it is, my good friend. And besides, he was right, we practically do not have a place in this realm because of our stature. People see us and laugh, and some want to do bad things to us." Harry said with his face looking at his feet, then continued, "You don't think he is dead?"
"My instinct tells me otherwise. Come, let's have a proper look at him, Harry." Bekker replied, still maintaining a distance.
"Bekker, we shouldn't do that. I suggest we leave instead. Dead or alive, we don't know this lad. Although he looks different from every single person in Gurliva, come on, we don't know anything about him other than the fact that he looks different." Replied Harry a bit upset and pushed Bekker backwards with the palms of his hands.
"Do you trust me?" Bekker asked.
"Stop the mind games. It's provocative whenever you put this question in delicate matters. What am I supposed to say? That I don't? Of course you know, but you keep on playing this mind game with me." Harry replied, still upset.
"Harry!! Would you listen?" Bekker tries to touch Harry on his shoulder, but he flings his hand off him.
Bekker continued, "Listen to me, Harry. It's a strange feeling, but I think we should take a very good look at this lad. I'm asking and beseeching you as my childhood friend."
Bekker pleaded, and somehow Harry agreed, saying he wouldn't get close enough while Bekker takes a good look at the lad. Bekker giggled, and, for the first time, he moved close to take a very good look at the lad. He bent over him, felt his heartbeat, and concluded he was still breathing. Bekker tried resuscitating him, and the lad's body reacted with him gushing out waters from his mouth.
"I told you. I told you." Bekker jumped in ecstasy, pointing a finger at Harry.
"Now …what?" Harry replied unconcerned.
"We need to carry him and try to revive him fully. He is not big. Be fast; go get the handcart from where you hid it." Bekker said to Harry, who was already impatient with him.
"Why should I? I have done a lot already by sticking with you all along. What if the wolf comes back? Just like what Falip said, what if other scouts or someone mischievous finds us here? Please, I think we should just leave him and go home" Harry protested with a frown.
After a little pleading from Bekker, Harry somehow assisted him in carrying the lad to his home on the far outskirts. The outskirts is a village made up of the Lord of the Regents and his father's rebels, as well as the demised old king's surviving palace servants, the majority of dwarves and those who haven't embraced the new doctrines of Gatlem. They are the last heritage of the defunct city-state that are conscious of their identity and still uphold their custom and beliefs as Gurlivanian, but these very things made the Lord of the Regents condemn them more and refer to them as the doomed ones. The villagers called the outskirt Felix Town, named after the demised old king. On the other hand, the Lord of the Regents renamed Gatlem after his own name, as it is now called Tij.