It was currently not a great scenario. The wolves were getting nicked slowly by the claws of the hobgoblins while trying to evade the larger orcs and their swings. Meanwhile, their attacks were being blocked time and time again by the black mist constructs that the shaman had brought up. There were only four of the shields, but they were being moved back and forth along the monsters to be able to safeguard its allies. So far, they had proven to be more than enough though, even with there being only four wolves, plus Nat and Shannon engaging them. Sure, if the six of them charged in to attack, they could probably get two of them, but the cost would be much higher. The four who were saved by their shaman would invariably attack the outstretched people who weren't blocked, and it would just worse for the pack.

Nat tried to run through ideas on how to get through this faster as she fended off the assaults of a hobgoblin. After all, none of them were quiet, and there could be many more monsters in the area, closing in on the sounds of distress. They could not just bring out more wolves. There was not enough space for them to maneuver properly nor were her energy reserves going to last much longer as they were. They couldn't just charge through the line to take out the shaman, as he would undoubtedly move one of the floating shields to block their approach. They had already tried to throw things at him, in an attempt to wound or distract him, but he had moved one of the shields fast enough to block it. As she racked her brains trying to figure out an answer, a forgotten variable changed everything.

In the dozen or so seconds that the monsters were pushing back the group, they had either forgotten Sol or written him off as dead to the orc that he took back there with him. That had been a mistake, but only found out once the headless corpse of the orc came flying through the opening they had created. It struck straight into the middle of the back of one of the other orcs, causing him to step forward, trying to regain his balance. Which put him within range of Bryden's claws. As the orc tried to pull back, one of the outstretched claws found their mark, tearing a line on the orc's throat. It was not a deep wound, but it was still one that caused the monster to raise a hand to block the bleeding instinctively.

At the same time, the shaman stopped what he was doing and turned around to see where that body came from. This in itself dispelled the black constructs that protected its brethren, causing them to start accruing wounds to the wolves now unobstructed claws. However, turning without moving proved to be a bad choice, as Sol was already by him, a broken piece of pipe in his hands. By the time the hobgoblin saw the giant, shifted warg coming at him, Sol was already mid-swing. Emulating Shannon's form with the fire axe, he swung the pipe hard at the hobgoblin's head. As mist started to run down the shaman's arm, the pipe made contact with the neck of the creature. A loud crunch resounded through the air, followed by the shaman flying through the air and into the wall, bone sticking through the skin of his neck.

From there on, the fight was more of a joke than anything. Without the support of the shields, the monsters constantly over-extended and got caught out one by one. The cover and support of the shaman had changed the field entirely, and it was clear that going forward, every fight was going to be harder as long as those buggers were still up and kicking. Thankfully, they had a very obvious weakness, shown by how the monster could not move its body too much and control numerous floating shields. They could move their arms and heads, but the second they did anymore it took their focus away from the constructs, leading their shapes to fail. While they knew that wouldn't last, the pack planned to milk it for what it was worth until the shamans became more proficient.

The fight ended with Sol taking out the last remaining orc, ripping his head straight off from behind. Together, the entire group moved about the gas station, checking every cranny inside and out before claiming that it was clear of monsters. Once the area was confirmed safe, the canines watched over the entrance as Nat and Shannon headed back towards the washrooms. The door seemed to be on it's last legs, bent almost at a thirty-degree angle with the frame. Holes dotted its surface while the walls around it looked worse than the way they had left the monsters. Whoever was inside had been lucky that the monsters were unable to read English. It was a group bathroom that did not have a lock on the outer door, just on the stalls inside. The only reason that it hadn't opened was that it was a pull door, and they tried to break in as if it was a push.

It took a bit of work, but they were able to pull the mangled door open. Instead of closing automatically, the door stayed open, the mechanism clearly bent from the stress the door had been under. Together, Natalie and Shannon entered the washroom, only to stop just as they turned the corner. At the far end of the room, a child was huddled up in the fetal position underneath the sink counter. Before Shannon could say anything, Nat slowly approached the child, getting on her knees and outstretching a hand. "Hey there, are you ok? All of the monsters are gone now, and we can give you a hand."

The kid stopped shaking for a moment, before looking up from their arms straight at Natalie. A shrill shriek rang out from their mouth, before they ran to the other side of the room and hid behind Shannon's legs. It took everything Shannon had not to laugh at the scenario, having expected it to happen. "You should have known that would happen Nat. You have always scared kids, something about the fierceness of your eyes." taking a breath, she bent down to sweep the kid into her arms. "Hey there, my name is Shannon, and I promise to keep you safe." The kid latched onto her clothes, before passing out in her arms. She must have been scared and exhausted from the whole ordeal. With the kid's head resting on Shannon's shoulder, they went out of the washroom to meet back up with the rest of the pack.