Survivors

Havermouth, Present Time

Samuel gazed out over the endless stretch of snow. The fine drift of flakes misted the sky, blurring the point at which land and air met. In the distance, smoke rising from amongst the white was the only hint that a village was buried there, the walls and rooves of their houses lost beneath the fresh snowfall. The humans of the region had survived far worse, so he was not concerned for them. They knew well how to huddle together during the frost filled months of winter.

When the snows melted, they would emerge with a new generation well on the way.

The chamber behind him echoed with many voices raised in argument. The meeting had been in progress for many hours and had lost his interest as they rehashed the same points over and over again.

“The bloodlines are under attack,” Ember’s voice rang out, silencing the argument. “There is simply no debating it. Already four lines are in danger. Ishiekiel and Salamen have brought the survivors into their own caves in o