Shared Trauma

RONN

Twilight has never looked so inauspicious as it does now. The camp is quiet, the most quiet I've heard in years as I head for the one hut behind the plateau. It's all very absurd. That we would slink back in the face of those cursed wolves. We have the advantage. And it ought to be used.

I skirt the slope of the tableland carefully, and when I circle to the other side, I find Gylen in front of the hut. He sits cross-legged on the grass next to Laen, Allos and Farden, a small fire between them, with meat roasting on a spit.

I consider my options. Sure they won't buy my idea, at least if I don't sell it properly. My second option, and the most agreeable, is to attack them. Take them out before they react, and then take the wolves. They could sniff me out on time, but the wind is in my favor; it's blowing north, against me.

I flex my fingers as I tense for action. Before I move though, Allos asks, 'What is Ronn doing here?'. I pause. I'd certainly underestimated his skills, and now