The Oracle Speaks
Jroa, the backstabbing.
Jroa the scheming.
Jroa the untrusting.
These are just many of the names Jroa has collected over the years. He muttered them to himself as he walked out of Rushy's house. With Rushy dead, the foreman position now goes to Jroa. And although he is unloved by all, his legal trickery and backstabbing have allowed him to become second in command of the mine.
He counted the gold pieces as he walked down the dark, snowy street. The sound of metal clanging against metal echoed in the streets and drowned out the soft crunching of snow that the wolf created. Jroa didn't even know he was being followed until he felt a warm breath on the back of his neck. When he turned, he froze in fear, not even dropping the gold coins.
"Oh god... Please... don't kill me." Jroa pleaded "I'll help you. I'll be your servant just let me live."
Jroa offered the gold to the wolf.
The wolf simply growled and in one quick motion, bit the hand that held the gold clean off Jroa's arm.
Jroa screamed in pain as blood poured from his wound. The wolf spit out the gold and hand, raised it's claws, and slashed Jroa across the face, creating massive gashes that dug deep into his skull and slit his throat.
Jroa went silent and the wolf ran away, knowing the rest of the village would be awake from the screaming.
Jroa is dead.
It is Day.