posted by Jennifer
Ferron breathed into his hands, trying to warm them. He wasn’t really dressed warmly enough for this freakish weather, and he was beginning to feel the bite in his extremities. Geoffrey settled into position beside him, looking the other direction. The human was as good as an elf at stealth and woodscraft. It was a relief, but it worried Ferron a bit, too. His people needed the few edges they had.
There were two groups of men assembled below, in a ring of ruined stones that were all that remained of a slender tower. One was led by what could only be a mage, be-robed, be-hooded, and be-staved. He had several armed men with him. Facing him was a grizzled human fighter, gone thin and wiry with age rather than flabby. He fidgeted constantly, pacing back and forth, feeling the hilts of his weapons, pulling branches off bushes or trees. Another man, shorter and fatter, hovered nervously in his shadow. They had several more men with them who hung back silently, and a woman who sat on a stone in silent resignation. She was muffled in a heavy cloak, but Ferron could tell her clothing was of good quality.