Dragoncrest Cliffs take up your broom, no gods are left

The howl summoned Vercingetorix, but not nearly soon enough. He came to the source of the noise but found himself still alone. Grumbling, he lowered his nose and began to follow Heda's scent, intertwined with his nephew's, his sister's, and the fragrance of someone that seemed oddly familiar, but wasn't Drageda. Who?

He tracked them through the caverns, eyes adjusting to the darkness just in time for him to hit the light again. Squinting, Verx approached the three wolves on the beach, standing over--

Ohhhh, what the actual fuck, he swore silently, staring down at the still form of the woman he'd seen on the beach the other day. Not Blackhead--one of her gal pals. Was she dead? No, he decided after a glance at her ribs, rising and falling slightly. Not dead. . .but definitely out cold.

What happened, Heda? Verx asked, raising his gaze to the commander. Did she provoke you?