“I didn’t know you were following me.”

“Neither did the wolf.”

He suddenly felt ashamed for showing weakness before his rival, so he pushed off from the tree and fought through his grogginess. Gingerly, he touched the wound on the back of his head, but it felt shallow. He’d have a knot there for several days, but that was better than being a wolf-man’s meal. Jerico joined Darius’s side, and together they looked at the corpse.

“Do you still think the villagers are liars?” Jerico asked.

“Of course, but not about this. Even liars tell the truth from time to time.”

“Such cynicism.”

Darius laughed. He shook the crusted remains of blood off his weapon and then sheathed it. With its fire extinguished, it seemed Jerico could see easier in the darkness.

“It’s merely truth, Jerico. I see the world as it is, you as how you want it to be. Doesn’t take a scholar to know which of us will be right more often.”

Jerico used his foot to roll the wolf-man onto its back. Its mouth hung open, and even dead, those rows of teeth gave him chills. He absently ran a hand along the deep grooves of his platemail.

“Did you hear what it told me?” he asked.

“I did. Who knows how many it meant. A pack could be five, or five-hundred. I suppose I should have left it alive long enough to question…”

Jerico pointed to the river. “We could cross and find out.”

Darius laughed.

“Into their territory? Are you mad? I’ve never considered you paladins of Ashhur the brightest of men, but I figured you would at least have more sense than that.”

Jerico shot Darius a wink.

“Ashhur calls the simple ones to do his work. We tend to accomplish more. Besides, if we go in the daylight, we could catch them sleeping. If they’re crossing the river to hunt, they mustn’t be too far.”