KELLEN
The camp had been split into three regiments, each one with a good mixture of warriors from each kingdom. The changelings and any other hybrids or hunters had been sectioned with their own teams. They were to purely concentrate on any monster that was present at the battle.
An old man, frail-looking, but with quick steps entered the main tent as I went over the provided maps and strategy Tobias, Rogue, and King Rostam had put together.
“King Kellen.” The old man announces, not asks, so I assume he knows who I am.
“And you are?” I put down the pen and ruler to measure the distance on the map and gauge the old man who stands at the tent entrance waiting for permission to enter.
“I am Chakor, a friend of Hunji’s.” He says with the dip of his head.
“The Skinwalker,” I remember Hun
