The resistance had no horses, which meant the Wolves of Winter completely overwhelmed them in mobility. Even if they could not win, they could always run away.
Considering that the scout killed last time had been shot with a musket, the lead wolf chose a resting spot a full two hundred meters from the woods.
At this distance, even if a group of musketeers charged out from the forest, they would have time to react.
Besides, several squads were keeping watch near the woods. They were stationed there, and if anything went wrong, they could warn the others immediately. Nothing could go wrong.
The Wolves of Winter dismounted without removing their armor, resting briefly where they stood in full gear.
Riding was exhausting. Quite a few men simply lay down on the ground, ignoring the ache in their waists from their breastplates.
The accompanying servant soldiers set up pots, lit fires, and began cooking.
Flatbread, dried rations, vegetables, jerky—every kind of ingredient was chopped up and tossed into the pots. Naturally, the taste was nothing worth mentioning, but at least it was hot, and it filled their stomachs.
A bowl of hot food did wonders for morale, and the soldiers lined up to collect their meals.
Meli glanced at the forest not far away. Some soldiers still stood watch at its edge, while the scent of food drifted all the way over to them.
The looks they occasionally cast this way were full of resentment.
Sure enough, everything was safe. The captain had been right—this time, they were only here to intimidate the enemy. There would be no fighting.
Besides.
He glanced at the short musket hanging from his waist. Who could possibly confront the Wolves of Winter head-on, especially a fully assembled army like this?
Reassured, he accepted a