The Exile community had moved northeast, into a stretch of the Old Growth's outer edge where the trees thinned enough to camp but thick enough to disappear into quickly.
Fen found them in under two hours, which said something about how well he knew these people and how well they knew to leave signs only he could read.
There were more of them than I expected. Forty, maybe fifty. The last time I'd seen them there had been a dozen, and I realized now that had been the forward group, the ones willing to come to the Hollow. This was the full community, and it was larger and quieter and more organized than anything the packs liked to pretend the Exiles were.
They watched us come in. Silver eyes, mostly. Some fully marked with tattoos, some only partially. A few with no markings at all, which
