I turned to Rylan and nodded giving him the go ahead to kill him.
Rylan gave a wild grin and his axe came down chopping off the head clean. The warrior stopped moving.
The fight around us faltered. The northern bastard warriors saw their leader fall and broke, fleeing into the rocks. We lost five men but a great number were injured. They lost seventeen. We burned the remaining camps and took every map and supply we could carry. The ride back to Frostfang was quiet, the horses' hooves the only sound against the grass.
We reached the gates as the sun climbed higher. Garrick met us in the bailey, his face grim as he saw the blood on my cloak and the empty saddles. The pack gathered quickly, eyes on the maps and supplies we carried.
I stood in the center of the bailey and unrolled the largest map. "Listen up wolves, we have their main camp location," I said. "The northern triad is there with the bulk of their force. We strike again before they can regroup."
