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The spring wind ruffled the silvery gray fur on my chest and caused the trees on the mountaintop around me to sway. The wind tossed the woolen tartan shawl draped over my shoulders this way and that, but did little against my rough leather trousers.

The sun hung low in the crimson and orange sky, casting long shadows over the village perched on the hillock below. The wattle and daub round houses rested on the lower slope of the mountain that marked the center of my world.

The slopes of the hill had been reinforced over generations with loose rocks, rendering the gentler slopes impassible where feasible, and limiting the number of approaches to the hilltop. Below stretched out the vast reaches of the deciduous forest around them, broken by similar if lesser hills and mountains in all directions.

Within the village, I could see my people weaving their way between the roundhouses. Wolf cubs ran for home with gleeful faces as the faint calls to supper echoed up to his ears. A small smile crept across my muzzle as I watched wisps of white smoke drift from the peaks of the conical roofs, though troubled thoughts kept him from enjoying the peaceful scene fully.

“Chief Camulus, there it is again!” a voice called down from the pine I was leaning against with one paw. I looked up at the gray wolf perched precariously on a swaying branch some fifteen feet in the air. My youngest brave, with the keenest eyes, pointed a clawed finger at the valley below. “Another tree moving against the wind.”

I followed his finger to where I knew a track lay below the forest canopy, one often used by my people on their hunting trips to the further reaches of our territory. I squinted, but could not see the movement my brave insisted was there. After nearly forty summers my eyes were not quite what they once were.

“Give the signal,” I called up to my brave, trusting the youth’s eyes over my own. I was confident that it was a party returning from a scouting mission to the edge of our lands. They should have been gone another five days however. They should not have been returning so early unless there was trouble brewing.

The young wolf obeyed and blew three short trumpeting blasts from the ram’s horn hanging about his neck by a leather cord. As the sound rolled over the forest canopy, the wolves in the village below stopped in their tracks and tilted their muzzles up towards the mountain. All stood still with ears perked.

A moment later three answering bugles rose form the forest floor, longer than those the sentry had given. It confirmed my suspicion, and did nothing to alleviate my worries. The wolves in the village below resumed their business.

“How long before they reach us?” I asked the young wolf in the tree.

The brave considered the distance for a moment before peering down at him. “About two hours I think, Chief.”

I nodded and gave my thanks to him. I passed the stone shrine our ancestors had built generations ago on my way down the small footpath. I had already made obeisance to the guardian of the forest when I had reached the summit earlier, and felt no need to do so again now.

The last rays of the sun were falling below the ridge of the mountains on the other side of the valley when I set foot on the wider paths within the village. I looked in the opposite direction to see both moons cresting the horizon and waxing to full strength.

I passed between the round houses, a troubled frown replaced my usual smile as I heard my people talking over their evening meals. I loved the peace and harmony of our village here on this mountain slope, but I feared it would soon be disturbed.

I sought out the roundhouse I shared with my daughter near the center of the village. My frown deepened as I thought of how she would chastise me for being late to dinner, just like her mother used to. The stars were beginning to appear in the dark sky when our roundhouse came into view. It was little different from the others around it, save the great antlered elk skull perched above the doorway.

“I was wondering if I was going to have to find you,” Aia grumbled when I pushed aside the fur covering the doorway. Her smile and the slight wagging of her tail betrayed her though as she looked up from the spit over the small fire in the center of the only room.

She was young, just shy of having seen twenty summers, her fur still mostly gray unlike mine going silver. The area around her eyes and the sides of her muzzle were lighter. This fur extended down her neck, to be hidden behind the light linen sash over her chest and then the loincloth over her hips. Her dark hair was pulled back and braided into a ponytail, which fell over her shoulder and onto her chest as she looked up at me.

The smell of roasting chicken wafted upwards, filling the place from the dirt floor up to the wood rafters and making my mouth water. The fire and a few precious oil lamps suspended from the rafters illuminated our home, casting dancing shadows over the myriad of furs hung on the walls to keep in the warmth. Among them hung tools that were staples of our existence. Axes, spears, and knives, some of them were even iron, though many were stone knapped by our own paws. Aia’s bow and quiver full of arrows hung prominently on the wall near the bed of pine boughs and furs at the far side of the room.

“Is something wrong?” Aia asked, her smile falling away when she saw my face.

I let the fur fall back over the doorway and forced a smile. “Seems like Brychan may be returning early. It’s probably nothing.” I said as I rounded the fire and let myself collapse onto the log upon which my daughter was sitting.

Aia handed me one of the stakes she had been turning over the fire. It bore a large chicken breast roasted to a golden brown with small bits of the skin seared black where the flames had licked it. “You’re worrying about the panther tribe again,” she said matter-of-factly.

I thanked her and took the wooden stake in my paws and tore off a chunk of fowl with my teeth. I chewed slowly, savoring the flavor before swallowing and answering her. “It’s not the panthers I worry about, but their new master.” I said bitterly.

I continued ripping hunks of chicken from the spit hungrily as Aia stood and went to the wooden cask near the wall. When she returned she handed me a mug of beer while speaking, “They were friendly before this ‘Ariovistus’ came along. Maybe they’re just playing along with him.”

I took a long drought from the beer gratefully before setting the tin cup on the dirt in front of me. Aia took her own spit from the fire and sat beside me on the log, so close that our thighs touched. My tail brushed hers as we ate quietly, my way of showing her my appreciation for our dinner.

“That’s what I hope.” I said, finishing my fowl and licking the stake clean of the chicken’s juices.

“You’ve done what you can to prepare. There’s no reason to worry.” Aia said, setting her own stake leaning against the circle of rocks that contained the fire.

“You sound like your mother.” I said gruffly and picked up my cup from the floor and took another swig of the beer.

Aia shrugged her shoulders. “You look out for us. Someone has to look out for you,” she said simply, turning her head to look at me.

I sighed and put one arm around my daughter, letting my paw come to rest on her narrow waist. “Thank you, Aia,” I murmured, forcing a smile.

She turned her shoulders slightly and leaned into me, and we sat quietly finishing our beer while watching the tongues of flame in front of us dance. My paw stroked idly through Aia’s bare fur on her side, and I felt her tail brush against mine. Her paw rested on my knee. The warm food and drink, and my daughter’s company went far to ease the tension in my body. Yet still as I stared into the flames, my mind recalled unbidden memories of a burning village, screaming, and dark blood on iron.

“You need to relax,” Aia spoke in almost a whisper. By now the murmuring voices of the other wolves around us had died away into quiet, most everyone probably having gone to bed. The quiet crackling of the fire and Aia’s soft breathing, and the occasional gust of wind that rustled the leaves of the trees outside were the only sounds in my ears.

I turned my head to look at her, pulled from my trance by her gentle words. She looked up at me in return. Our muzzles bumped against each other, and our lips brushed together. I gave her a squeeze to me and her paw traveled from my knee up my thigh. “You need a clear mind to lead.” she murmured as she began to move, pulling away from my grip and setting her cup aside.

I watched as my daughter stood in front of me, the fire behind her silhouetting the curves of her young body. “Let me help you,” she whispered, looking back into my eyes as her paws went to the sash covering her chest. My heart began to beat faster as she tugged the linen down. Her young breasts were full and pert, and the linen sash below them helped to hold them upright.

I smiled and leaned in, my own cup forgotten on the log beside me now. A small sigh escaped her muzzle as I gripped her soft breasts in my paws, squeezing them gently and directing one of her nipples to where I could lick at it. I savored that pert flesh as the scent of her arousal grew, prompting my own body to respond. She looked down at me, muzzle hanging open just a little, and I up at her.

I wanted her. Her eyes flicked down to where my trousers tented upwards, and she knew it.

I let her go, my paws falling to the leather cords fastening my trousers and undoing the knots as my daughter knelt on the ground in front of me. In a moment she helped me tug the leathers down, letting them fall to my ankles in a forgotten pile. She shuffled closer, eyes fixed on my red canine shaft, already fully free from my sheath and erect, while her muzzle drifted closer. Her cool nose bumped against my hard flesh, and she extended her tongue to lick at my balls and sheath. I shifted, leaning back a little and balancing with my paws on the log while spreading my legs a little further to allow her more room.

Aia rested her paws on the insides of my thighs while licking over my balls and working her way upwards over my sheath. A sigh of pleasure escaped me when I felt her tongue brush over the base of my hard shaft. She lavished the underside of my shaft with attention until she reached the tip, and paid special attention to the slit there.

With a smile up at me, she parted her lips and took me into her muzzle. A quiet groan fell from my lips as I felt that warm wetness envelope me. She wrapped her lips tight to my flesh and sucked as she pressed her muzzle down. The tightness was exquisite, as was the pressure from her tongue gliding down the underside of my cock as she descended.

Slowly she took me in her muzzle until her nose brushed into my fur. I rested a paw on her head, holding her there for a moment while I enjoyed the confines of her muzzle. Obediently my daughter held still under my touch and huffed out a pleased breath through her nose, disturbing my fur. I let my cock pulse against her tongue for a moment before she eased off and pulled back until just my tip was left between her lips.

After giving my tip a few more loving licks she pressed her muzzle down again. She set into a slow and steady rhythm, up and down over my cock. She pushed my tartan shawl to the side, likely wanting a better view of my muscled pecs and abs. I shrugged it off and carefully set it on the log beside me. Aia gave a pleased hum around my cock as she looked up at me, and slipped one of her paws under her loincloth and between her legs.

My tongue lolled out of my mouth slightly as I looked down and watched her tight muzzle stroking up and down over my flesh. Our eyes met for a moment. As green as the forest around us, they were the only thing that I seemed to have given her, save perhaps my stubborness. Otherwise, she could have been her mother, as I remembered her. Aia peered up at me with my own green eyes glinting in the dark for a few moments before she closed them.

This was Aia’s gift to me, allowing me to fall back some twenty years. I watched my beloved wife suck my cock with delicate loving attention to my pleasure. Her tight muzzle was heaven, her tongue drawing drips of pre from my length that she licked up greedily each time she pulled back. My paw found hers and our fingers interlaced as we shared this quiet moment. Her own paw rubbed between her legs, invisible behind cloth and shadow, but the movement of her arm betrayed her self pleasure.

Barely audible over the sound of the crackling fire was our quiet pleasured panting. The only sound that disturbed the quiet night’s quiet was the wet sounds of her muzzle as she sucked at my hard maleness.

It was her name that came to my lips. “Oh, Muirenn, my dear, I love you,” I breathed, my voice ragged with pleasure. Her ears folded back at those words and her paw squeezed mine. I panted, feeling my seed rushing up my length, my cock throbbing against her tongue.

Someone was running quietly through the village. I could hear the thump of paw pads on earth getting closer and closer as they made their way to my roundhouse.

Her eyes opened, and there was my daughter looking up at me again. Her eyes silently asked if she should stop. I answered her with my paw on her head, gently pulling her muzzle back into my groin. Whatever the disturbance, it couldn’t be serious enough to stop me from enjoying Aia’s muzzle. The corners of her mouth quirked upward and she continued her ministration to my cock.

The footfalls stopped at the door to our home. “Chief Camulus? I have urgent news!” a hushed voice called between breaths through the door.

“Brychan? Can it wait?” I answered quietly, recognizing my second’s voice. At this, Aia’s ears perked and swiveled back towards the door, but she didn’t let up with her muzzle.

“No…” his voice faltered when a particularly loud wet squelching sound erupted from Aia’s muzzle. I glared down at her, but the corners of her muzzle remained curled upwards mischievously. “No, sir,” Brychan said.

“Come then,” I said with some annoyance. The fur over the door was pushed aside and a wolf’s silhouette stepped within. In the dim light I was just able to see my second, whose fur was darker than most others in our tribe. His eyes gleamed in the gloom for a moment as he took in the sight of me sitting naked with my daughter’s face buried in my groin, her head still bobbing up and down without concern. “Speak.”

Brychan recovered quickly and got to the point, “We encountered a party of panthers at the border. Jasur was with them, and he requested a meeting with you,” he said. Despite his determination to appear dedicated to his task, I could smell his growing arousal. His eyes flicked down to Aia again when she flagged her tail teasingly at him.

“Is that all?” I asked with some bemusement.

“I saw several wolverines with them,” Brychan said ominously.

I frowned. “Very well. You can take me there when I am finished here,” I said with a glance down at Aia.

Brychan nodded and gave a courteous bow. “Yes, Chief,” he said and was gone out the doorway with one final glance at Aia.

My attention returned to my daughter, whose movements had slowed considerably. Her muzzle dragged up and down over my cock, her tongue luxuriating over every inch of my flesh. Her eyes twinkled up at me.

I smirked and held her head to my groin as I pushed myself to my feet. “I can’t have you delaying me, dear one,” I murmured and pet her between the ears.

A disappointed ‘mmph’ came from her throat and her eyes pleaded with me as they had when she was much younger.

She offered no resistance however when I wrapped a paw firmly around her muzzle and thrusted my hips into it. “Now, now,” I tisk-tisked her playfully. I pulled my hips back and thrust my cock back into her muzzle quickly.

Another ‘mmph!’ and her tail wagged.

“Good girl,” I growled and began fucking her muzzle. I held her head in place with one paw gripping the back of her head and the other keeping her muzzle shut while I pistoned my hips back and forth. She had laid her tongue flat within her mouth, and I growled and panted in pleasure as I ground the underside of my cock over it.

One of her paws gripped the flexing muscle in my thigh while rubbing herself rapidly. I saw the trembles in her body build until they crashed over her in a wave of pleasure. She moaned around my cock and her thighs tried to clamp inwards, as if to contain the feminine fluids that gleamed as they dripped from her paw. Her ears pinned back, yet she kept her eyes open and looking up at me.

The pleasure on my daughter’s face was all I needed to push me over the edge. I had felt my seed surging up my length in ecstatic waves, and now it burst from me with a snarl. I pulled her head into my thrusting hips, pressing my full knot against her lips until it slipped into her muzzle.

My face twisted and I bared my fangs. I fought to keep a primal snarl buried in my chest as I felt that first rope of seed burst from my body. I only partly succeeded, growling loudly in the quiet as I sprayed my cum over the back of my daughter’s throat. My paw slid from her muzzle to grip my knot as I pulled back and delivered one more thrust into her tight mouth. She worked her tongue over my pulsing length, and I bathed it in spurts of hot semen.

The seconds stretched to a heart-pounding eternity as I fed my daughter my seed. Her throat worked, gulping. She swallowed it with more eagerness than her favorite tea I had brewed for her as a child.

“Gods above,” I breathed as the last of my cum oozed onto her tongue. In the weakness of my afterglow I staggered and collapsed back onto the log and panted for breath. My shaft slipped from Aia’s muzzle but she followed it down and bathed my spent shaft in attentive little licks. I groaned quietly as she cleaned my sensitive flesh of any seed she had missed.

I watched her work and stroked from her muzzle over her ears. “I should be grateful that your future husband is so understanding,” I said.

“I think he likes it,” Aia said and delivered one last lick to my cock from base to tip. She crawled up into my lap and played with a lock of my braided hair.

“So it would seem, so long as I don’t put a cub in you,” I murmured and licked at the nipple tantalizing close to my lips. I ran my paw through the fur on her back while caressing her breasts with the other.

I felt a shiver run down her back. “I wouldn’t mind if you did,” she whispered in my ear and brushed her muzzle against mine.

Our lips met and our tongues danced together for a long moment. “We push custom far enough,” I sighed as our lips parted and I looked up into Aia’s eyes. “Brychan will be a good husband, and you will be a good chief one day.”

“If you say so, Papa,” Aia said with a smile.

“Come now, you should get some sleep,” I said and lifted my daughter up from my lap. I cradled her to my chest as I turned and carried her to the bed of pine boughs and skins. “You’ll need your rest to lead while Brychan and I are away.”

Aia nuzzled into my chest fur, inhaling my scent and sighing contentedly. “You’ll be back soon?” she asked quietly as I set her down on our bed.

I smiled and drew a fur over her to keep her warm against the night chill. “As fast as my paws can carry me.”

---

Wind blew down the ancient dry riverbed that separated my territory from the panthers’, sending the leaves and branches around me swaying. The twin moons high in the sky bathed the rocks and dust below in pale light. Beyond the empty riverbed the great forests of Hercynia rolled unbroken. In the grasses between the riverbed and the treeline the glowing embers of a pair of low fires silhouetted ten or so dark figures. They were sitting in semi-circles about the fires and facing me from across the riverbed, their eyes gleaming from the light of the flames.

The wind shifted and I caught the scent of panther and wolverine. There was something else too, just a trace… blood. My fur prickled with unease.

I peered over at Brychan who crouched next to me behind the thorn bush that concealed us. The grim expression on his face told me he had caught it too. “Did they smell of blood before you left?” I asked my second in a hushed whisper.

Brychan nodded. “That’s why I hurried,” Brychan replied.

I frowned and looked to my right and left where I knew my braves were hidden in the treeline, though I couldn’t see them. Brychan had insisted on bringing more with us, and we now seemed to outnumber the party across the riverbed. There was no way to tell if more panthers were hidden in the trees beyond the campfires however.

I tilted my muzzle to the stars and let out a full-throated howl. About half of my braves followed a moment later, the rest concealing their presence and our true numbers. Brychan joined in beside me, and our haunting cry echoed off the trees and rocks.

The panthers’ heads snapped up and scrambled to their feet. They grabbed spears from where they rested against trees and rocks and pulled bronze daggers from their belts, the dull green metal flashing in the flames. Some nocked arrows to bow strings.

A large panther stood and waved for the others to lower their weapons before turning in my direction. “Chief Camulus! I wish to have words!” he boomed from between cupped paws.

I slowly stood from behind the thorn bush. Beside me Brychan began to rise as well and I held him still with a paw to his shoulder. “Stay. If anything happens to me, the tribe will need you,” I murmured to him.

Brychan hesitated and then nodded reluctantly, sinking back down into a crouch. I pulled my tartan shawl around me, concealing the long iron knife at my belt, and descended into the dry riverbed. Behind me a couple of my braves hopped down over the rocks, following me as a trio of panthers approached from the opposite bank.

“Jasur,” I greeted the panther chief stiffly as he approached, his face illuminated by the torches his escort carried. We came to a stop facing each other, separated by the dry bed of the stream that had once flowed here.

The panthers on either side of the chief wore simple loincloths in the regional manner. However Jasur favored an exotic yet faded silken robe that was some relic of his tribe’s past. None of them bore weapons openly, but I knew knives hid beneath the folds of their clothes. My brow furrowed as I recalled a time, not long ago, when such a thing had been unthinkable.

Jasur appeared crestfallen by my wooden greeting, but quickly gathered himself. “Chief Camulus, it’s good to see you are well…” he began.

“What do you want, Jasur?” I cut him off as my eyes were drawn up to the riverbank behind him. Perched atop the crest were a trio of wolverines standing separate from the rest of the panthers watching the scene. As my eyes fell on the wolverine in the middle, he approached with eyes that gleamed as he stared back at me. “Who are your guests here?”

“I am Ariovistus,” the wolverine said with a thickly accented voice before Jasur could answer. The torchlight revealed that he wore heavy skins that were common in the mountainous eastern reaches of Hercynia, complimented by a flowing fur cape. He carried himself with the confidence of a man who had fought many battles.

“I’ve heard much about you.” I said warily as he approached. The wolverine scarcely reached five feet in height, yet I had the sense that this creature was more deadly than his stature might suggest. Muscle bulged under the wolverine’s dark fur, and his claws and fangs looked ferociously wicked.

“I am chief of wolverines, protector of all clans,” Ariovistus said and extended his paw. I took it and we clasped each other by the wrist. His grip on my arm felt like the crushing inexorable weight of a rock slide, yet his expression remained stony and impassive. I squeezed his arm back even as the bones in mine seemed to creak under the pressure. Closer now, I could see that one of the wolverine’s eyes was milky-white with a scar that cut through the dark brown fur above and below it. The other eye gleamed with a fire that had little to do with the torchlight.

“You know why we’re here,” Ariovistus continued without letting go of my wrist. It wasn’t a question.

“Your confederation,” I said evenly.

Ariovistus nodded gravely and finally released my paw. “An alliance against the ‘civilized’ prey that send their poison to weaken us,” he spat the words with distaste. He turned and put an arm around an uncomfortable Jasur and brought the panther to his side. “I have seventeen tribes at my side. I want yours there too when I make them pay for sending their ‘spice’ to rot our tribes.”

The spice. It was an addictive plant grown by the agricultural peoples on the plains beyond the bounds of forests of Hercynia to the west. I had seen the effects of the drug before, but thankfully not in my own tribe.

“I am not interested in war,” I said firmly.

Ariovistus’ good eye burrowed into mine. “Jasur tells me you allow their traders through your lands in exchange for their goods. You know they carry the spice with them. How do you justify this?” The tension in the air grew like a rope being steadily pulled taught.

“If a chief is so weak as to allow the spice to rot his tribe, he doesn’t deserve the title.” I said, turning my eyes on Jasur, who blanched under my glare. Some of the panthers on the ridge above began to move towards us, but Ariovistus held them back with a paw in the air. Behind me I could feel more than hear the rustling of my braves drawing weapons and nocking arrows.

“True enough, but what effects some of us effects all of us,” the wolverine said. “I understand you have a daughter, Chief Camulus.”

My eyes narrowed. “Why do you mention her?” I growled low.

Ariovistus held up a placating paw. “I have daughters too, Camulus, many daughters,” at this he turned to the pair of wolverines still on the ridge and motioned for one of them to join us. “Surely you can sympathize with wives and daughters who deal with husbands and fathers whose minds have been rotted by the spice.”

“I have seen it before,” I said with distaste.

Ariovistus nodded gravely. “Then you understand why I seek to protect them,” he said as he accepted the paw offered by the wolverine that joined them in the circle of torch light. It was a young woman, just barely of age. Strangely, she was dressed in a simple loincloth and sash, opposed to her people’s traditional heavy leathers.

“This is my daughter, Saxa,” Ariovistus said, and I gave the young woman a polite nod. He stepped behind her as he continued, “To seal our alliance, I am prepared to give her to you,” He punctuated his offer by drawing his paws sensually down his daughter’s burgeoning curves.

She was beautiful, even with the nervous expression on her muzzle. To accept her as a concubine would have been so easy. It was a common practice among the tribes of Hercynia to seal alliances with the exchange of second or third daughters.

“I cannot,” I said grimly.

Ariovistus’ expression immediately fell into an ugly frown. “I have many sons as well,” he said and motioned to the remaining wolverine on the ridge behind him.

When the last wolverine approached I realized too late that this was the stick to Saxa’s carrot. “I have allies,” I warned Ariovistus.

“Do you, Camulus?” Ariovistus said with amusement as the torch light revealed the wicker basket in the male wolverine’s paws. “This is my son, Odo,” Ariovistus continued. The hint of blood that I had smelled earlier grew to a vapid stench. My fur prickled with apprehension as the wolverine approached and lifted the lid off the basket.

It took every ounce of will I had not to flinch away when my eyes met the milky dead eyes of my friend, Cian. The fox’s once vibrant russet fur had been dulled in death, and his face was grotesquely twisted in an expression of shock.

“You have no allies, Camulus,” Ariovistus’ faux gentleness was betrayed by the triumphant gleam in his eye.

My heart pounded in the silence for several long moments before the rage ignited in my chest and the muscles in my arms bulged as I balled my paws into fists. “Murderer,” I growled to Ariovistus dangerously. Odo replaced the lid of the basket and drew his lips back to reveal wicked fangs. Jasur’s guards hissed in warning while my braves’ growls joined mine.

“You dare come to me speaking of honor? Cian was with us not three days ago for Beltane. You could not have given the warning demanded by custom!” I snarled.

Ariovistus’ face warped with anger. “I am not without honor!” he spat, and then his face twisted again into a horrible grin. “I’m sure you could tell that he was awake when I killed him.”

Ariovistus lifted his muzzle then and his voice boomed surprisingly loud despite his small stature, “Consider this your warning! My warriors and I have never known defeat, and have not slept beneath a roof in fourteen summers! I will put anyone who gets between me and the poisoners to the sword, and I will enslave your women and cubs!”

A satisfied smile tugged at my own muzzle as all of my braves answered this with full-throated howls. Jasur and his panthers were wide-eyed as they heard twice the number of wolves as they had earlier, and took a step or two back. Ariovistus sneered at me and turned his progeny away and started back up the slope.

Minutes later I was leading most of my braves away back into the depths of the forest, leaving a small contingent to keep an eye on the border. The panthers and wolverines had decamped immediately, apparently retreating back into their lands as well.

“I want you to take some of our braves and head north. Search for any survivors of Cian’s tribe,” I instructed Brychan, who kept pace beside me as we moved through the brush.

Brychan nodded grimly. “Chief? Why not just go along with him?” he asked suddenly in a hushed whisper.

The darker wolf shrank back from my wrathful gaze, holding up his paws placatingly. “What he did is evil, but… he has seventeen tribes doesn’t he? We can’t fight that many.”

I turned away and with effort led the way quietly and quickly instead of brutally slashing at the brush like I wanted to. “He can’t bring all the braves of those tribes to bear at once so easily,” I said, my mind working to think how many of his wolverines Ariovistus might have with him now.

Brychan growled under his breath, obviously dissatisfied with my answer. I looked back at him, “More than that,” I added, “Ariovistus is no man of honor. He murders in the night, without warning.” I spat.

“I know men like that. They seek nothing but power.”