No matter his desire to stay his hand, the group of warriors they tracked had gone too far in their strikes against Rome. The Huntsman would have kept the Wolves from action had it been a fort or an imperial camp ahead, not a village, well believing that the soldiers of Rome needed to defend themselves, not be defended.

His allegiance had been sworn, and no matter his personal feelings in the matter, they needed to be set aside in favor of seeing the Gauls stopped. There was no room for mercy in the first volley of arrows, nor the second, as the men were surprised in their fireside waiting. Sheer numbers played no part in the equation, not where twenty overcame three times or more times that number, the Wolves rushing from the cover of the woods on two legs or on four, using steel or the flash of teeth to tear apart the haphazard Gallic defense.

The scene was moonlit melee, and soon finished, leaving the Huntsman standing at the center of the camp with his sword in his hand and pulling in shallow breaths.