Dawken moved around the log cabin, his boots crunching on the frost floorboards.
Behind him, his companions held Pandra in a tight grip, a dagger pressed to her throat.
Dawken paused before the table, eyeing the snow eagle feathers with greed.
"I guess I underestimated you children," he mused, stroking his chin. "You proved to be of more use than my entire party."
Raven stepped forward, her hands clenched to fists at her sides. "What's the meaning of this Dawken?"
Dawken faced her with a mocking grin. "Take it easy, Raven. We didn't come here to pick a fight. We're just here to negotiate."
I returned my gaze to the two mages restraining Pandra. Dawken's party had fourteen candidates. There were only two now.
Where were the others?
"There's nothing to negotiate, Dawken," Raven said sharply. "This is our camp. You're not welcomed here."
Dawken casually picked up a feather and examined it. "Well, not anymore, Raven. You see, I'm taking it from here."
