“What appears to be worrying you, my Lord? From what can be seen our efforts in delaying the enemy force has been extremely successful.” Maatilani carefully brushed the mane of her Khetalian mare, its larger size and mottled white coat differentiating it from the other Khetalian steeds nearby.

The Scholar lay nearby, his head resting snugly upon the flank of his mount’s dark black coat, the horse took no heed of its master and simply kept munching away at the grass below. “I am not worried, just a bit concerned. The enemy was able to repel the trap we set for them two nights ago far too easily. I did not expect the wolves to succeed in eliminating them, but at least they should have wiped out half, not just a third. We still have to deal with over a hundred of the fools, and we don’t have enough arrows to whittle down many more.” Just as the Scholar finished speaking two furry little heads popped out of the saddlebag hanging from his horse. The Direwolf cubs struggled and fell out directly into the man’s lap, the brother and sister tussling upon his lap.

The pair had been retrieved from the den after their party had followed the injured wolf back to its home. Luckily the king was not present, and his mate was dead, the other members grabbed the regular wolf cubs after dealing with the adults, while the Scholar took the pair and Maatilani claimed a separate Direwolf cub belonging to one of the pack leaders.

“It is quite irritating, my Lord. To see how quickly the two have become attached to you. Khufut refuses to listen, she even snaps at me when I try to feed her… I am envious.” Maatilani could only stare longingly at the ball of golden fur which had curled itself tightly upon the mare’s saddle. Khonsu the Khetalian mare had seemingly adopted the little Direwold pup, and for her part the pup appeared inseparable from the horse, a strange occurrence for such a short time span.

“Give it time my dear… I am sure the little one will warm up to you. To be honest, you were covered in the blood of one of theirs, it is only natural they be a slight bit cautious. It’s not like there is much she can do to you at the moment anyway… feed her when she is hungry, she will open up to you in time.” As the Scholar said this the two pups on his lap were preoccupied with his hands, playfully biting, and snapping as he maneuvered them over and around the two. Flipping the boisterous pup onto their backs and sides before rubbing their exposed belly and repeating the process until they simply lay there accepting the relaxing massage.

As Maatilani observed the entire situation, the envy and jealousy, although slight and difficult to discover was there. However, the Scholar was adamant to return to the more important topic at hand, “The enemy has thrown caution to the wind, they have barely enough supplies, but the excess wolf meat will tide them over for at least another day. Surely it is starting to rot, but if cooked thoroughly, it should still be edible. The problem is the number of scouting parties they are deploying, most are not even scouts, just levy infantry meant to distract us. We are bound to miss one of the scouting groups, they are likely to discover signs of our camp by tomorrow at the latest… we can no longer postpone the engagement. I am concerned about whether four days was enough time to properly prepare the defenses, especially without us there to direct them.”

“It will be fine… I trust that Malakos and Timeaus have enough capability to understand what is required for the upcoming battle. You have already informed them of the plan, Timeaus excels in defensive and ambush tactics, and Malakos is quite good at motivating the supply troops to work. If anyone other than yourself can reinforce a position into a stronghold quickly and at minimal cost, it is those two, my Lord.” Maatilani was right, the two had experience in this type of warfare, their task was simple enough and the enemy force had been hampered enough to complete the central defensive tasks. A messenger would need to be dispatched to inform the camp of the enemy position, by tomorrow they would most likely know the convoy’s location at the Kallithene Hills. If not tomorrow then by the following day the battle was bound to begin, at first light the enemy was bound to move for their assault, the Scholar and his team would need to be in position prior to the start of hostilities.

Up until this point the advance team of outriders had picked their targets, the first attack using the wolves was to whittle their power, but the primary purpose was the elimination of their supplies. Unfortunately, the corpses of the wolves provided enough meat to continue the march, and furs to keep out the cold for many of the men. The elements and disease had taken out more during the last two nights, while the raiders struck isolated scouting parties and patrol teams.

The Scholar anticipated that the lack of supplies and scouts would force the enemy’s hand, instead of surrounding and starving the defensive camp, they would be forced into an immediate frontal assault. With the reduction in skilled scouts, they were unlikely to detect many of the traps hidden upon the approach, while the reduction in horses would make them believe that their targets namely the Scholar and those closest to him made their escape while abandoning the civilians. This reality alone would force them to storm the hill, take the camp and deploy their cavalry through the Naulos pass in an attempt to intercept their fleeing cavalry.

If everything went as planned the enemy should fall into their grasp and the battle would be over before the sun reached its zenith that day. The battlefield loot would also make a fine addition to the already burgeoning supplies the convoy had retrieved, providing even more development funds to be spent on projects back home. For now, however, there was work to be done, with the playful barks of the wolf cubs overshadowed by a muffled crash.

“Haha… looks like we caught another! What are you all waiting for, let’s go see what we caught today!” One of the outriders was quick to pounce, these hunting excursions had become their main source of entertainment. Some helped tether the horses, while others prepared the gear, everyone carried their weight and did their part, ensuring tasks were accomplished as efficiently as possible.

Two soldiers were left behind to watch over the horses and wolf pups, the rest quickly dawned their cloaks and headed out into the forest. Only the soft crunch of leaves and the occasional branch were audible as the party moved silently amongst the underbrush, arrows nocked and daggers ready.

Initially the force from Myrmien had dispatched small scouting and foraging parties, around five men strong in a futile attempt to both gather supplies and discover the raiders who had remained a thorn in their side. The continuous disappearance of these parties whittled down the enemies resolve to catch the raiders, instead opting to whether the attacks and focus on finding the main camp. Nowadays they would be lucky to capture a single scout, let alone an entire party, the group mainly encountering deer, stags, wolves and the rare forest bear, nothing they were incapable of dispatching. Even that game had dried up as the local fauna quickly recognized the danger and marked it as the exclusive territory of some new predator, with many of the animals giving the central clearing where the outriders slept a very wide berth.

Upon arriving at the source of the commotion the group came to an abrupt stop, taking a knee and holding position. It didn’t take long before a rustling sound could be heard, the members turned their attention to a nearby tree its leaves waving in the wind. Their eyes slowly drifted upward before witnessing the source of the disruption, laying prone against one of the outstretched branches was their watchman, his cloak blending in with the nature around him. The man’s eyes were focused on them, a smile on his lips, extending his right hand and holding up three fingers, saying nothing else before moving upwards and prepping his bow.

Three fingers referred to the third trap, with the area surrounding their hidden clearing sliced into multiple zones. Designated plots in the area, with markers placed strategically, unnoticeable by those untrained in the ranger’s ways. Coded messages were carved into the trees, meant to assist friendly scouts to traverse the trap filled zones, while misdirecting enemies.

The Scholar and his team’s approach were completely drowned out by a constant high-pitched wailing, the cries growing louder and more audible as they neared. In open space lay a group of three, one man was already dead, an arrow shaft protruding from his chest. With the other two incapacitated in one way or another, but still very much alive.

One was hanging three feet in the air, with the rope snare tightly grasping his ankle, a trickle of blood flowing down his cheek. The man probably striking his head upon activating the snare, his eyes unfocused and response dull, evidence of a strong blow to the head. A flash of color, unique markings, and a single goose feather identified this one as a leader, his uniform standing out in stark contrast to the others in his party.

The final individual was the primary source of the noise, his wailing and crying loud enough to attract every hungry predator for miles to come. Blaming him for that would be unreasonable, it was an understandable reaction as a sharpened two-foot-long wooden pole had penetrated the sole of his foot. A secondary trap meant to immobilize any individual rushing to assist those caught in the snare, cruel, but shown to be extremely effective. Sometimes, especially during battles or skirmishes these spike traps would be slathered with venik, a poisonous paste derived from the excretions of venomous forest toads and toxic plant leaves, the concoction would cause the blood to boil as if on fire, dragging out the pain for hours before ultimately killing the victim.

Luckily for the crying boy the Scholar’s team had no supply of venik, whatever there was remained at camp to use upon the defenses. Only the Scholar and Maatilani approached the boy, with the rest of their escort scouring the area for survivors and establishing a perimeter.

“Now, now… calm down. It will all be better in a bit… Let’s just get you off that thing, we don’t want you dying here.” While Maatilani relieved the boy of all his weapons, gear, and anything of value, the Scholar was calming the boy down, applying some medicinal paste to numb the pain. Once Maatilani was done, the two were able to carefully remove the foot from the spike without too much additional damage. The boy would be incapable of running, he would walk, slowly and with a serious limp, but not running… not anytime soon.

“Please let me go…. I don’t know anything…” The young soldier pleaded with the two, more than likely he was a poor citizen struggling to survive within the city. Promises of meals, pay, and the promise of spoils from pillaging the caravan would be enticing for many, especially the poor.

“Don’t worry kid, here you go… we’ll get you all wrapped up. Now, why don’t you head on back to your camp and we’ll be keeping your friend… Run along now.” The Scholar pointed the boy in a direction, with the soldier taking one look at his squad leader, then at his bare body and made his decision, quickly limping off into the woods.

As he disappeared out of earshot Maatilani could not help but ask, “My Lord, that was not the direction of the forest exit?”. The Scholar placed his hand upon her shoulder before speaking, “You’re right, that direction leads deeper into the forest. I did say he wouldn’t be dying HERE… By dusk the boy will be out of our territory, and with that wound he won’t get far.” In the distance, if one really focused, they would be able to hear the lone wolves hunting for easy prey.