 . . . .
 . . .
and the remaining members of the Wolf Pack lined up side by side on our bikes infront of the remains of the wall. The exception being Morris, who was no longer able to drive with his arm gone. He stood behind us with the King and his hippies, their spears ready. The Wolf Pack started their engines and revved. The sound was deafening, easily drowning out the sound of the approaching Dragons’ bikes. Within minutes the silhuettes of the Dragons appeared on the horizon. For a moment they stopped. They were too far away to discern their expressions, but I knew they were shocked to see us. They paused for a moment longer then charged at us at full speed. I heard a clang behind me. I turned and saw that the King had dropped his spear and was running back to the lodge. The other hippies waited for a moment before their courage failed, too. They all ran.
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