Dragoncrest Cliffs take up your broom, no gods are left

Natrona. That figured. He scoffed quietly, his gaze fixed mockingly on her waking form.

She was in the sound the other day with two other women, one of brown fur and one pale, with a dark head, Vercingetorix explained. They were. . .'having lunch.' Like hell they were. He let out a sharp exhale through his nostrils, gritting his teeth as less than gallant thoughts wheeled through his mind.

They could kill her, eliminate some of the problem. But they could also ransom her for the sound. 'Give us the sound and we'll return her to you. Renege on any part of the deal and we rip out her throat.' That seemed the more prudent option, and less malicious than killing a wolf while she was down. He wondered what Heda had in mind for her. He wouldn't challenge the commander's verdict.

Instead, he looked at Helix, wondering what she thought of all this nonsense, and waited for Heda's response.