It was on the wane already. The hour of decision had passed. The empire awaited in fear the news that it portended.

Away north. Three days later. In the dark of a moonless night. A beast with three legs limped from the Great Forest. It settled on its haunches on the remains of the Barrowland, scratched the earth with its one forepaw. The son of the tree flung a tiny change storm.

The monster fled.

But it would return another night, and another, and another after that...