[Arvedui III]

The last of the wild men fled; They saw it was useless. Turthol began calling out to the members of the company, making sure everyone was ok. They were. Rangar dismounted the horse he'd been using for leverage against the wild men only to find Aerin looking angrily at him. "You ok?" He asked, bewildered. "What were you on my horse?" "Fighting" he replied nonchalantly. "If any should have been on her, it should have been me." "Sorry" he mumbled, realizing his stupidity once again, and walked off.

Rangar went and knelt by one of the corpses while the others were cleaning up. "Dunelings" he mumbled, "Turthol, come here." He called. " Well, that was something, huh? What is it?" His friend answered, now coming over. "Duneling mercenaries." "How do you know?" "Look, a bag of silver, their cloths, maybe there's order papers on one of them." "So we search all them?" said Turthol incredulously. "Rangar, so what if they're mercenaries?" "Why would they be this far west?" "I don't know. Come on," and suddenly Turthol stopped. "They wouldn't be after us, Would they?" He said slowly. "I dunno." Rangar whispered back. "We can't stay here." They both said at once, and got up.