"Quick! Into the trees! Another war party is coming this way!"

I jumped as Shane's voice hissed through the darkness, but promptly swung down to the ground and led Milly into the trees. The rustling of branches heralded Shane's arrival.

The man emerged from the underbrush. "This should be far enough. I didn't want to howl in case it's the same group from the village."

"Do you think it's the same ones?"

"Once they go past, I can check the scents. There's at least two war parties patrolling these roads, but the group from the village is usually the one we end up hiding from."

"Persistent, aren't they?"

"Indeed."

I didn't hear any hoofbeats yet, so I asked, "How'd that wolf get past you?"

"Sorry about that. It was in an old bear den near the road, and with the number of trails it left, I missed it when checking the area."

"You arrived in good time. Did you get injured?"

"Nothing worth worrying about."

As I had wondered, he hadn't escaped that fight unscathed, but this could be a point of pride for him, and he was a werewolf. Rumor had it they healed quickly.

"Just let me know if you need any help cleaning or bandaging it," I quietly offered. "I have some supplies in my packs."

He nodded stiffly and turned his head as the sound of horses reached our ears. I stroked Milly's neck and handed her a handful of oats to chew so she wouldn't call out to the passing horses.

The clip-clopping of hooves grew closer, this time at a walk instead of trotting as they usually did. Voices soon became audible.

"-about ready to turn back."

"With Alban dead? Ivar will have yer head."

"You best 'member to call him Warlord, or he'll give ye a set o' lashes to make dat lesson stick. 'Sides, we know they're out here."

"If we don't bring 'em back, our necks'll be on the choppin' block."

"That's what I keep tellin' ye. Soon as the Warlord hears, he'll be comin' for revenge. We's out here 'cause he'll want peoples combin' these woods, and we can't look for no one if we's dead, so dat'll keep our head off da' choppin' block."

"Best if we find 'em before he shows up."

"There only be so many roads in the passes. Soon as Clyde brings more soldiers, we can block 'em."

"Hope he brings more grub. Gettin' tired of rabbit."

"If you wouldna broke yer crossbow, you coulda had tha' deer we saw earlier."

The conversation quickly descended into a food blame game, but my mind was still stuck on the earlier part of their conversation. I peered through the undergrowth, but I was too far away to make out any details in the dim moonlight.

Once I could no longer hear the horses, I quietly asked, "Do these men have griffin emblems on their gear?"

Shane glanced at me. "Yeah. Why?"

I frowned, pairing prior knowledge and details to what we had just overheard. I didn't like the conclusion I was coming to.

"The man who broke his neck – you said he had fancy armor? Can you describe it?"

"I was paying more attention to their swords than to their decorations."

I waited, letting my silence speak on my behalf.

With a sigh, he rubbed his neck. "He definitely had better armor than his friends. It covered his chest, arms, and legs. He wore scale armor, although the others just had leather with metal plates sewn on. He carried a sword and shield, and was pretty good with them. There was some sort of long banner attached to his saddle. It was so long it almost wrapped around his horse's legs a few times. I think it had a griffin on it as well. Why?"

"I think we're in a lot more trouble than we realized."

His focus sharpened. "How so?"

"I'm hoping I'm wrong, but it sounds like the man who died was a Commander or someone important to Warlord Ivar, and of all the Warlords squabbling over this corner of the map, he's the one I'd put the most effort into avoiding."

This time, it was his turn to wait with intent silence.

I gazed back at the road. "I don't recall hearing about someone called Alban, but Warlord Ivar has quite a reputation. He's been claiming land for several years now. He's fought and won against at least five other warlords and two kings-"

"Is he the one that hangs his enemies in cages outside the city gates to die of thirst?"

"Yes, and there are a lot of other stories as well. He's a fan of torture, and from what I've heard, he takes offense at almost anything."

"The last set of traders I guided across the mountains talked about him, and they didn't have anything good to say about him either," Shane muttered. After a quick shake of his head, he said, "The sooner we get into lands held by the southern kings, the better."

"I agree. Do you think it's safe to return to the road? Or is there another trail nearby?"

"There are a few deer trails, and I'd rather not run the risk of them turning around. You'll have to lead Milly on foot along most of them, but it'll be safer than the road."

"I can lead her. Just make sure I don't take a wrong turn."

"Give me a minute or two, and I'll use branches to block the paths you don't want to go down."

"As dark as it is, I won't be moving fast, so you'll have plenty of time."

"If they don't return, we can try the road in an hour or so."

I nodded as he disappeared back into the forest. Stumbling along a deer trail in the dark wasn't my idea of fun, and I was pretty sure once he realized just how slow it'd be, he'd ask me to return to the road and just keep a close eye out for company.

But things could be worse, especially when a notorious Warlord's soldiers were looking for us. Much, much worse...