As soon as they entered the log-reinforced cave entrance, a smell of damp earth, sulfur, and the distinctive odor of a beast's den hit them.
In the dim light, Douglas swept his gaze over the caves hollowed out of the rock walls on either side. Behind the shabby animal-hide curtains hanging over many of the entrances, wary, exhausted eyes watched them.
A female werewolf holding a child instinctively tightened her arms around the child, her eyes filled with the terror of a narrow escape.
And the warriors wrapped in crude bandages, even those leaning on spears, still had the unyielding resilience of wounded lone wolves in their eyes.
Hope and despair hung equally thick in the air here.
Marco led them into a relatively spacious and more secluded stone cave off to one side of the cave complex. This was clearly his temporary command post.
Inside, there was only a platform built from piled stones to serve as a table, with a few animal hides spread on the ground as cushions.
"Please, sit." Marco gestured for them to sit on the hides.
Soon, a woman brought over two coarse earthenware bowls filled with steaming soup.
The soup was grayish-brown and gave off a strong earthy smell, a mixture of underground mushrooms and some unknown root.
Though it could hardly be called delicious, a bowl of hot soup was a rare hospitality in these circumstances.
"Please forgive our poor hospitality."
Marco sat opposite them, a trace of apology on his face. "The tribe has just suffered a devastating blow. We don't have much to offer."
Lupin was still cautiously distinguishing the smells of underground mushrooms and roots mingled in the hot soup, but Douglas had already taken a large gulp from his bowl.
Something stirred within him. Douglas's openness was not