Arguments go ‘round and ‘round. I could care less what we do here if anything at all. I have my own debt to owe…

Our small party splits in almost as many directions as there are outlaws, but we shall meet in Tara for the Lughnasadh festivities…the survivors anyway. The more blood-thirsty pack mates I believe will find the wrong end of a sword in the soft parts of their bellies. I am one of those that have elected to go my own way, one magical creature against another. I was going to hurt that Hag one way or another.

Staying away from the revelries I find myself a nice little tree niche to watch my wolves ‘play’ and posture to one another. Some drink, more gamble and some leave to their own trails until we meet up again. Baine talks gaily to the old one-eyed wolf Faolan. Doran stares intently from his own dark place. Something is not right with him. Soon I stalk off into my own shadows…