Kingdom of Ash

Let their enemies draw closer.
Crunching snow mingled with labored
breathing.
Right on time.
Aedion nocked an arrow to his own bow
and ducked lower on the outcropping.
As Ren’s scout had claimed when she’d
rushed into Aedion’s war tent five days ago,
there were six of them.
They did not bother to blend into the snow
and rock. Their dark fur, shaggy and strange,
might as well have been a beacon against the
glaring white of the Staghorns. But it was the
reek of them, carried on a swift wind, that told
Aedion enough.
Valg. No sign of a collar on anyone in the
small party, any hint of a ring concealed by
their thick gloves. Apparently, even demon-
infested vermin could get cold. Or their
mortal hosts did.