As the music falls, you take the time to survey your men. More had fallen to the beasts before their magic was undone, and you fear moral has hit a low. Some, tending to wounds look at you with stern expressions on their faces, others grieving for the loss of their battle brothers.
(Horsemen moral fallen, Shaken.)
"It appears one still lives my lord." The voice of Soran catching your attention. One of the white haired goat women kneels, staff broken, and bearing some visible wounds and marks, she is otherwise silent as she stares at some point at the ground. "If I might suggest lord, we leave these woods immediately, too many lives have been lost to this victory..."
As Soran spoke, a feral cry was heard through the darkness of the referring light. Then another, and another, in cacophonous unity. Beasts bellowing to their fallen leaders, you can feel the hatred burn in the evening air.
"Sire," calls Gunther coming to your side, "we must withdraw now. Take the welp or leave her, but we must get out of these cursed woods!"
Looking at the limp form of the submissive goat woman, you consider killing her and leaving with her kin. No, too many have died this day.
"Bring her, and lets leave this place."
Turning you remount a nearby horse, Soran in tow as Gunther calls out, "Aye, Fall Back! To the castle!"
The calls of the wild did not follow you from the woods. But something swears to heathen gods this day vengeance against you.
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