Chapter 70: 64: Claws

Apart from increasing howling echoing across the valley, which does not come from your wolves, nor do they respond to it, the entire day ended up with no surprises or unexpected events.

Both, your party and your new companions stay mostly separate and keep to themselves throughout the day. You might think that at least the walk itself would be a pleasant experience, but there are only so many different combinations you can re-arrange into the same rocks, moss and pine trees before it all starts looking the same. If you were writing a diary you’d struggle to write anything of note that would separate this day from the others.

The only thing lifting your spirits is that you’re finally leaving the rocky mountains. Tomorrow you’ll reach smoother and greener lands, that you can already see in the distance, colored orange by the setting sun, finally breaking through the gathering clouds.

And as this uneventful day comes to an end you lower your pace and walk to the side to talk with the friendliest of your new companions, Gorrazsh, who does his best to never be too close to the dire wolves.

“We will be resting soon,” you say. “It will probably be for the best to set up separate camps for tonight.”

“Again? Why so, fair William?” Gorrazsh asks.

“Well, I can tell that some are still uneasy by this temporary union and I would not want to intrude on your group further than is necessary.”

“While it does sadden me, I suppose I understand what you mean,” Gorrazsh scratches his square chin. “But do not worry—the others will ease up on you. They are great fellows, once you get to know them!”

“I am sure! Which is why I would not want anything to happen to any of them. I will leave the wolves patrolling the area of both camps just in case.”

“Eh, erm…” The or against stumbles and begins to sweat at the mere mention of the wolves. “Thank you, fair William, but… you see, Cassandor is fairly proficient at setting up defensive magics, thus I think we will be fine.”

“Very well, I will make sure my wolves stay a safe distance away from your camp if that is what you desire.”

“Thank you for understanding!” The orc bows slightly and goes to Mori and Cassandor, probably to inform them of what you just discussed.

That’s when Elza joins up with you and says, “It looks like it will rain. There’s a spot just up ahead that can provide decent cover for the night.”

“You know these lands well,” you say.

“I’ve been living in this region for over a year now, so I guess that’s a given,” Elza chuckles and smiles, but you feel no joy coming from her.

“Is it normal for these parts to be so devoid of animals?”

“I figured it’s because we’re surrounded on all sides by predators,” Elza shrugs.

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“Perhaps,” you say as you don’t have a better argument.

The spot Elza spoke of ends up being a mossy enclosure formed naturally by half a dozen bunched up pines on one side and on the other side a composition of several rocks supporting each other and laying at an angle, providing partial shelter above your head. The rocks several times your height and you can’t even imagine how many tons each of those may weigh, but they seem locked in place and it doesn’t look like any of these rocks moved in decades.

Using the natural construction, Elza is able to improve it with the tarp she had with her, tying it between the closest pines.

“Our ‘friends’ will not be so comfortable if there’s a downpour,” Elza says, finishing a knot on the rope pulling the tarp. You all can see the light coming from the nearby campfire. If you shouted at the top of your lungs, they’d probably hear you.

“Who cares?” Epsilon says, already settling the best spot she could find—the one deepest in the covered area, with her back against the soft moss spread on the surface of the rocks.

“If they are so confident alone, how did they end up in so much trouble yesterday?” Elza asks no one in particular.

“They could have been worn out from a previous encounter, but you’re right—it is a little suspicious,” you agree with your bandit companion. “Which is the main reason I want to stay a distance away from them tonight, with my loyal pets between us.”

“Or they have a secret they want to keep from us,” Epsilon says and smiles at you. You can tell that wasn’t just a wild guess.

“What do you know?” You demand an answer from the bunny girl and quickly walk toward her. You do not like being kept in the dark by your own subordinates.

“They want our protection, but they don’t want to share in the coming rewards of their question spoils,” Epsilon says. “In the morning, when you freed the ice-woman, that dwarf, Mori, asked the kid if he felt confident about taking on all of us along with the wolves when they instead could use us for protection to deliver the claws.”

“Claws?” you ask. “What claws?”

“That I don’t know,” Epsilon says. “But it doesn’t matter. They take us for naïve fools! Why are we even keeping them alive? The only word they’ll be spreading of us in Ranville is how gullible we are! Give me a couple of hours—I can get any information you may need out of them!”

“That—” you’re interrupted by the highly vocal barking of your new hounds. Then you hear howling from deeper in the forest. You can’t tell how close it is to your camp or the adventurers, but the howls are coming from all around you. Your dire wolves recoil in a circle, retreating closer to you, and the camp. Elza runs up to you, you feel cold air emanating from her as she gets in a fighting stance. Epsilon and Alpha also stand at your other side, weapons at the ready.

“And here I thought you were slaughtered,” You hear a menacing growl, more animalistic than human, coming from a large, shadowy figure. “Dampfur, you truly have grown senile in your old age. Allying yourself with bipedals?”

From behind the trees you see a ten-foot-high shadow approach you. It has the features of a wolf, but, apart from its blood-red eyes, most of its form is hidden in unnatural shadows, that seem to be spreading, rather than decreasing as the giant closes in on your camp. Countless more blood-red eyes approach and light up around you, at the same hight as your dire wolves are. Your and their pack snarl at each other, not daring to make the first move without command.

“Dampfur, where are my claws?” The shadowy wolf demands an answer. Your wolf does not give it. It seems you are seconds away from a fight. And you can't hear or see what's going on with the four adventurers.

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