Fireside conversations had died away and finally, the last of the sorcerers had made their way from communal fires to their respective sleeping tents. Spots of light from unquenched fires and lanterns, both inside and outside tents, were still dotted around the encampment. In a distant corner, the fretful cries of a baby signalled the presence of at least one wakeful sorcerer while the undiminished sounds of a few drink-laden voices emitted from a tent closer to hand. Half an hour later, the guards around the perimeter were replaced. Those relieved of duty did not linger and soon they too had retired.
Within the tree line, the woodfolk watched and waited for another half an hour, some stationed in the trees as close as possible to the guards’ posts and the rest strung out along the ground
