The sounds of howling continue through the night — putting everyone on edge.

Eomer positions the two carts between the caravan and the forest edge — but moves the mule inside the circle of wagons. He plants his four javelins into the ground, ready to be thrown the moment a wolf shows itself.

Trent retrieves a few short torch stands from his pack — placing them at measured intervals 50 yards away — lighting the surroundings between the cart and the trees. He has his shield slung in one arm and his sword at the ready.

You stay close to the handcart, your extra quivers and your shield in arm’s reach in case you might need them.

Thomas lies down on the other cart, preparing to get some sleep. His bow lies close to his side in case of an attack during the night.

Dune is sitting down, back to one of the merchant’s wagon wheels, apparently sleeping. However, fluctuations in his body indicate some form of magic-use — perhaps a commune with his hawk, Elm.

Bruce is once again sleeping in a hastily set-up tent behind the two carts.

If he sleeps like he did when you first met with the hunters, you doubt he would awaken at the first sign of trouble.

Trent approaches you.

“Get some rest kid,” he advises. “Eomer and the bird get first watch,” he gestures at the sleeping Dune.

“This doesn’t feel right,” you stress your words.

“Really? How?”

“The wolves I knew from the forest were opportunistic and relentless once they attacked prey. But they wouldn’t attack a clearly stronger opponent like the runed bear — much more an armed caravan far from the forest.”

“That is true,” he assents. “There’s something we’re not seeing — something else behind the shadows.”

“What does Eomer think?”

“He feels the same,” Trent answers, “but he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to make some gold — and keep a few merchants safe.”

You nod silently, thinking about the harsh life of adventurers.

Night deepens.

The first attacks occur well past midnight.

Thomas is standing watch together with you when the first traces of wolves appear at the edge of the torchlights.

The wolves seem larger than the ones you faced inside the forest. All their eyes have a bluish-white glow and mist seems to form as they breathe.

“Frost wolves,” you bellow, “all those wolves are frost wolves.”

Thomas raises two fingers to his mouth and gives a piercing whistle.

“The wolves are at the doorstep!” he shouts. “Get up you bastards!”

The first wolves start charging a hundred yards out.

Thomas draws his bow and shoots at the wolves.

His arrows pierce through one of them and bounces at another.

You grab your bow and shoot three arrows consecutively — hitting one in the throat. Your other arrows bounce harmlessly or fail to penetrate deep enough into the wolves with their armor of ice.

You reach out for three more arrows but you lock eyes with Thomas.

He shakes his head and makes a gesture at the coming wolves.

You drop your bow and grab your shield. You draw Skybreaker from your back and head to face the wolves to give Thomas more space to shoot.

The leading wolves crash into the torch stands — plunging the surroundings into darkness.

A wolf crashes to the ground, hit by one of Thomas’ arrows.

It gets up on its feet with an arrow sticking off its chest. It growls in anger and pain and you see grime envelop the arrow until it shatters.

“Damn those wolves!” you roar in your head, “and their blasted cold!”

Another wolf gets hit, arrow bouncing off its hide. It gets hit again — this time with a stronger force.

The hit stops its forward motion, even knocking it back to one other wolf.

“That’s wasn’t an arrow,” you realize.

You glance back for a split second and see Eomer readying to throw another javelin. Trent is rushing to your side — sword and shield at the ready — but not in time to meet the wolves.

The leading three wolves charge towards you from different angles. One of them crashes into your shield in an attempt to drag you to the ground.

You manage to keep your footing but a second wolf attempts a bite at your leg.

You angle your body sideways and meet the wolf’s open jaws with the descending Skybreaker.

Karthas!

The wolf’s head is pulverized by the concussive force of the blow and the ensuing shockwave.

The wolf’s core is destroyed by the strike — blasting out a burst of cold that leaves your weapon covered in a thin layer of rime.

“The third wolf!” you remember. You dive into a roll — barely avoiding a blast of cold and ice.

Another wolf goes down, pierced by an arrow through the eye — followed by a second one.

The arrow shots have seems to have more than doubled — so either Dune has joined the battle or Thomas is a better archer than you thought.

Trent reaches you and cuts down the wolf that crashed into your shield.

You deal with the other wolf with a shield bash and another strike to the head — this time, holding back Skybreaker’s magic and preserving the core.

More wolves rush out of the forest and you begin to hear the sounds of battle coming from the wagons.

“Leave the boy,” Eomer shouts at Trent. “Take Thomas with you.”

Trent gives you a nod before rushing to the wagons.

You see a fully-awakened Bruce moving to take his place.

He gives you a nod to show his readiness and he unsheathes Horizon — casually dropping its sheath on the ground.

You move away from Bruce, giving him space to use his weapon.

A charging wolf lunges towards you, but it gets felled by an arrow to the throat before it hits.

“You keep those damned arrows away from me!” shouts Bruce, seeing the downed wolf at your feet.

He wields Horizon with practiced and calculated movements. The greatsword cutting any wolf that comes close while warding the others at bay. He doesn’t swing the sword as you would have expected. Instead, he holds the hilt close to his chest, the sword blade towards the wolves, and he manipulates the hilt to move the blade in a controlled — even elegant — manner.

A flying javelin pins a wolf to the ground. Even with a spear through its body, it still attempts to force its way to the battle.

You move in closer and strike it at the neck — tearing its head from the body.

“I’m going!” Eomer shouts.

“Leave it to us!” replies Bruce as he fends off two — now three wolves.

One of the wolves goes down struck by a javelin.

“I said no arrows!” Bruce shouts before realizing the wolf was brought down by one of Eomer’s spears.

Three wolves start to surround you — two of them blasting you with their frosty breath while the other one chases after you as you evade.

Ice starts to form where the frost wolves’ breath hit you — but you barely take damage from the cold.

You make a note to show your appreciation to Glenn and his craftsmen for their work with your armor.

“Give me hell hounds any day,” you voice in frustration. “Aaaargh!”

You strike at a lunging wolf, blasting it down to the ground — only realizing that only one wolf stands in front of you.

“Bruce!” you shout a warning as you see the third wolf moving to his flank and preparing to breathe frost.

Bruce strikes at a wolf in front of him, cutting it in two — but was too late to avoid the blast of frost.

The wave of cold hits him — enveloping him in rime and temporarily blinding him.

You rush to aid Bruce, battering aside the nearby wolf with your shield and smashing your hammer at the third wolf just as it finishes breathing frost.

The wolf at Bruce’s front charges at him — lunging at his neck with jaws open.

Thagk!

Out of nowhere, Elm crashes into the wolf — knocking it a few inches away from its path. A feat quite impossible for a bird of its mass — so magic must be involved in some way.

The wolf crashes into Bruce, knocking him down to the ground.

Bruce holds it at bay with his hands — suffering a few cuts to his exposed arms.

You drop your shield and grab the wolf by the neck — slamming it into the ground before smashing the top of its head with Skybreaker.

Kharass!

The wolf twitches for a while and then lays still.

You turn to meet the other wolf — only to see that Dune already took care of it with a couple of arrows.

You rush to aid the fallen Bruce, making sure he knew it was you as he now had Horizon back in his grasp

Aside from the cold sapping his strength and mild ice burns to his hands and face — Bruce seems fine.

“Wear a helm next time or use a shield,” you joke as you carefully pick him up.

You help him limp his way back to the cart, picking up your discarded shield and Horizon’s scabbard along the way.

You and Dune stand guard in case more wolves appear from the forest, disregarding the screams and sounds of battle from the wagons.

The injured Bruce searches his pack, finally pulling out a flask.

He turns to Dune — who gives him a curt nod — before downing the flask and lying on the cart.

Soon the sounds of battle die down and the sound of Bruce’s snoring becomes more noticeable.

A bloodied Eomer emerges from the wagon — followed by Trent and Thomas.

He sees — and hears — Bruce sleeping in the cart, and gives a questioning look.

“Frost breath,” Dune explains. “One of the wolves hit him with a solid breath. He took a potion and slept.”

Eomer merely nods — visibly tired.

Trent approaches you and gives you a tap on the shoulders.

He grabs a chair and sits down.

“I’ll take the next watch,” he declares with firm determination. “The rest of you should get as much sleep as you can.”

“I’ll join you,” you move beside him with your own chair and sit down.

It seems like he would start arguing — but he chooses not to and accepts the company.

Another attack like that before morning would be disastrous — and you can see it in the faces of your companions.

Morning comes without any further attacks.

Eomer approaches the merchants and claims eight of the wolves. The merchants dispute his claim and he returns with just six.

More than 20 wolves attacked the wagons. Added to the 15 wolves your party killed — it made for a sizeable pack.

Dune and Thomas start the process of skinning the wolves and taking their cores. Most of the meat would have to be discarded.

The merchants lost one of their numbers and four of their guards. Those numbers would have swelled if Trent, Thomas, and Eomer didn’t lend their support.

A couple of merchants left with bitterness — blaming the delay for the attack, but the rest of them held a sense of gratitude towards Eomer and the others for their timely assistance.

Your group sends the merchants off — hoping they wouldn’t encounter any other setbacks.

Dune prepares a stew of wolf meat as you and Eomer start helping with the pelts.

Pretty soon the smell of the stew rouses Bruce from his slumber and the handcart is filled with more than 20 pelts.

“Last night was something unexpected,” Eomer starts. “We can stop now or we can head deep into the forest.”

“There’s something strange about the wolves,” you say. “Every one of them was a frost wolf, the packs I usually encountered only had one or two.”

“That’s true,” Trent agrees. “Every one of those bastards had ice dribbling down their mouths.”

“There’s something in the forest,” cries Dune. “Something unnatural that’s interfering with the wolves — strengthening them.”

His statement causes everyone to pause — every one of you weighing the potential consequences.

“What are our plans?” Eomer asks, giving everyone a chance to voice their opinions. “Do we go in, hoping that last night was most of the pack — or do we call it a day and return with our 20 pelts?”

A hawk’s cry breaks the silence.

“Elm says there aren’t that many wolves in the forest,” Dune says, “Only a few larger ones.”

“Alphas or something completely new?” Eomer asks.

Dune raises his hands in a gesture of uncertainty.

“I can handle a few wolves,” says Thomas. “Better to deal with what’s causing the changes to those wolves than have a horde of them in a few months or so.”

You concur — as do the others.

You eat your breakfast in silence — knowing that you’ll be entering deep into the forest once you’re done.