The creature rose, loosed the boy. It turned to face Beowulf.
Throughout the forest the scream of anger sounded!
It charged the waiting swordsman.
Claws extended, fangs bared, it leaped with fury on its foe.
Quickly they were joined by sound of blows, the whistle of Beowulf's blade in air. With every motion the sword gleamed with a strange and changing light. Now a deep and glowing red. Then a green that seemed to flow its length, changing to sunlight yellow. And all besmeared with the blood of Wyrd!
Blood flowed, both red and green!
Beowulf fell before the onslaught, rose again.
Demo watched, transfixed. Even in the horror of nightmare was not seen such fearsome battle!
Wounded both and bleeding, and still the battle continued!
The moon dropped from view, and the gentle stars looked down on the frenzied struggle.