Without any cause for worry or care, Dolohov ignored the tense atmosphere. "I have another errand to run for the Dark Lord, so I suggest that you hide your presence as planned. We shall reconvene soon," he carelessly said as the spear slowly retreated and returned to his side. The spear wordlessly shrunk down, before he quickly pocketed the goblin forged spear.
With a sardonic smile, Dolohov in a feigned tone of concern says, "You really should have the Shamaness take a closer look at that half-breed," before laughing sinisterly and instantly apparating away with a loud pop.
Iwara hurried forward with concern but hides her worry lest it be perceived as a token of weakness from the giants, who followed them. Before Iwara can speak, Wurfbog snarls, "Cut it off, Iwara."
Iwara opens her mouth to protest, but her protests are quelled by a single fierce glance from her mate. Vowing vengeance in her heart against the wizard, who hurt her mate, she reaches into the folds of her giant leather skirt to remove a sharp jagged blade. "Hold still and do not move," she briskly instructed her mate, before swinging the blade with all her might.
With a thud, the left hand of Wurfbog falls to the ground as blood begins to spurt from his wrist. Wurfbog was pale, but he did not whimper nor flinch at his mate's actions. Iwara hurries and chants a magic spell to stop the bleeding, before ripping a portion of her skirt to tie around the tender wound. The wound could be better treated upon their arrival to the destined haven.
With a tap of Iwara's stab of her staff against the ground, the removed hand burns instantly into ashes. Already weakened, Iwara staggers forward and leans on her staff for strength. She tiredly gasps but remains upright only because of her pride as the shamaness of the giants.
"No touching the human establishments," Wurfbog barked, but no giant dared to disobey his order. They were tired and especially hungry, but far more afraid. Their Gurg had not even flinched despite the pain. There were even hints of regained admiration and awe for their Gurg.
"Come," Wurfbog roared over his shoulder before the giants began to solemnly march not even straying away to consume the tasty flesh of humans despite their vast hunger.
All too soon the Giants vanished with the fierce winter tempest hiding any traces of their arrival. The only other indication was as they passed villages are the small tremors near the human dwellings. Many thought it was merely the fierce wind and fell fast asleep including those that were magical.
One of the human villages is a small village by the name of Hermite. Despite the fierce raging storm, a retired old sea dog stood watching from his window. A former sailor in the Navy, he'd proudly served his country during the second great world war. He'd survived the poisonous gas of the trenches, the vile submarines with their torpedoes, the burning pelts shooting planes, and even being shot twice! There was a bit of shrapnel left behind in his body from old battle wounds that swelled on humid-filled days like these.
Aye, he was old enough that now even his bones ached might fierce on stormy days. On nights like he was unable to sleep a wink without some of his younger sister's special stuff. But he didn't feel drowsy yet, so he'd be up for a good while.
The crabby old sea dog's cottage stood separate from the rest of the village of Hermite on a small hill. The villagers thought the old sea dog strange, but no one ever commented on it since the old sea-dog had been raised in the village and his grown children lived in the nearby town just over the next hills.
The old sea dog stood fearless at his window in the dark, when he felt the earth thud. For a moment, he was transported to his youth and could hear the bombs screaming in the air as they fell from the sky. The terrifying explosions, the terrified screams, the familiar metallic scent of blood, and death at all sides including the frozen, shark-infested waters. There was no room to escape, they were all trapped on a sinking vessel.
The ground shakes again bringing the old sea dog out from his horrific past and back to the present. The old man swallows loudly and finds that his hands quiver with old terror. Straightening his back, he fiercely stares at the window with his brown-yellow eyes.
His mum had been a hag alright, and though he looked human-like his dad, he'd inherited a few traits from his dear old mum. He couldn't count the number of times his bacon and hide had been saved from being able to see in the dark. Not only had it saved his life countless times, but also those of his comrades during the war.
It has been a bad harvest that year and with the war raging on, there hadn't been much work to found in the village of Hermite for their Da at that time. Their Ma hated to leave the forest and their home in the woodlands, but she knew they couldn't stay behind. She'd thought she had no more younglings when they had been rudely surprised late in life with a squalling infant. Left with no choice, they had been forced to seek out employment in London despite the dangerous situation with the nearly daily air raids and bombings.
It all changed one fateful night when an air raid began unexpectedly. Without any time to reach the cellar or the nearest bomb shelter, they'd been forced to hole up in their flat. After the bombing, the neighbors had heard the wails of his infant sister and had worked together to find her. She'd been successfully found and rescued having been hidden in a safe-like box by their mum and da. Unfortunately, she had been the only survivor to be found.
His two younger sisters already in their teens were dead along with his mum and da. All but his youngest sister had survived the tragic bombing, a mere infant at that time. He had been unable to return to care for her, a soldier in the middle of the war. But the Hags had more than willingly taken Annis in and raised her until he returned from the war.
His youngest and only living sister was nearly two decades younger than him. Annis looked more like a hag than a human. She looked much like their mum except for her gray eyes. Aye, her gray-colored eyes were most usual to have for a hag, but they were the same color as their da. Their Da had been a Black yea see. Their many great-grandfathers had been Eduardus Limette Black, who had been disowned from the pureblood family for marrying a squib, their many great's great-grandmothers. Magic had all but died out in their family with each generation being only born as squibs, but they still remembered their magical roots passing the family lore to each passing generation.
Ironically, t'was his younger sister, who was the most magical one out of them. The only thing that ever soothed the ache in his old bones was the potions that Annis made. She had a gift for potions, she did.
His younger sister had visited early that morning to deliver the latest batch of potions as he had run out. She eagerly explained that the council of Hags had gathered and hinted at the fact that giants were coming. The hags were gathering for protection, but she didn't want to leave to join them. She wanted to take him and her grown nephews with their families to safety.
He and his two grown sons didn't much interact with the magical folks of the world, but they knew that the wizard folks existed. They'd seen them performing magic at times but had pretended not to notice the vast relief of the naïve magical folk. That and well, his sister creating magical potions couldn't be exactly ignored nor the fact that she was a hag.
The old sea dog returns to the present furrowing his brow at long last spotting shadowy giant lumbering figures through the whirls of snow. Their figures were blurry but a great deal of them was enormous at least twenty feet tall if not more! The ground shook for some time as the old sea dog calculated roughly what the enemy count was until at long last the ground ceased to shake.
Hurrying to the kitchen, the old sea dog carefully turned on a lantern and begins to write, what he had seen. He'd send word as soon as the sun was up to his younger sister. He had survived war only to find himself unwittingly in another war. He remembered his mother's childhood tales of fierce giants and fiery dragons, and he was no fool. Giants ATE humans and magical kind alike. He wasn't about to allow his family, kin, and country fall at the hands of giants, no sire!