A voice rang through the woods, warning the sleeping camp of incoming strangers. Miltiades, always awake, stood guard. Ren had awakened early to share the morning watch. They heard scuffling sounds in the woods long before the voice announced the presence of travelers. Overhead, dark stormclouds still rumbled and swirled, but the sky had lightened with the sunrise. Three men astride huge wolves trotted into camp. Minutes earlier, Gamaliel had sensed their coming and awakened his mistress and the rest of the party. “Friendly faces are welcome, but be warned, we are a formidable band,” Ren replied to their hail. Dismounting, the three strode toward the group. They were a rough lot with shaggy black hair and torn, homespun clothing. None showed any weaponsa fact the companions found unusual for woodland travelers. No weapons, that is, except for the three enormous wolves. “I am Artur Bladeson.” The biggest of the three men gave Ren a toothy grin. “These cubs behind me are my cousins, Wuldor and Donar Arcnos.
