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Wolfshead Pike sits atop of hills, a weathered stone place looking over Harrowden. Its dark stone’s marked with age. The windows are narrow, covered with shutters, giving nothing more than a distant glimpse of town below.
Once a watchtower for town’s protectors, it’s now forgotten, standing there like a silent sentinel. Only brave – or daft – make the climb up the steep path to its door. On stormy nights, the wind howls through the cracks, making a horrible wale that cries down the hills and echoes like a distant banshee’s cry. It goes right through you let me tell you! *shiver*
(Based on Hartshead Pike – IRL)
