The Annals of Ulster They retreated into the trees and the Northmen did not follow. Backed further away, weapons held at the ready, and still the Northmen did not follow. And when at last it was clear the Northmen were not going to follow them into the woods, that they had had enough of fighting, then Louis de Roumois led his men back to where they would meet up with Aileran and the others and make their way back to camp. A boisterous energy was running through the men. Louis had seen it often enough, particularly at the conclusion of a successful action. He figured it was due to some imbalance of the humors, some trace of fear and excitement and madness still flowing in the blood, looking for a means to dissipate. He had felt it himself in the past and he had enjoyed it, but he did not feel it now. As he pushed his way to the head of the line of retreating men, he grabbed Failend by the arm and pulled her along. She had moved back into the wood with the rest, had tried to make herself inconspicuous, but she was foremost in Louis’s thoughts and he was not likely to forget she was there.
