The combined forces of the triumvirate and Elowen's reluctant allies had arrived just before dusk, setting up defensive lines along the southern bank. Tents dotted the fields like dark mushrooms. Wolves in partial shifts patrolled the perimeter while engineers reinforced makeshift barricades with felled trees and sharpened stakes.
Seren stood on a low rise overlooking the ford, her enhanced senses drinking in the chaos. She could smell the tension in the air...sweat, wet fur, oiled steel, and the faint sour note of distrust between the two allied camps. Elowen's forces camped slightly apart, their banners bearing her personal sigil of a silver rose. The scent of lavender and polished steel clung to them, mixing uneasily with the cedar-and-smoke loyalty of the triumvirate's troops.
Kael's massive presence flanked her on one side, Aeron on the other, and Theron behind. The bond thrummed with constant vigilance.
