‘About us. The Mott Irregulars. We think maybe he’d planned on leaving us behind. Up north. Blackdog Forest. There might have been some kind of order, back then, something about us staying while he went south. We’re not sure. We can’t remember.’ Gruntle cleared his throat. ‘Have you considered informing the warlord of your presence?’ ‘Well, we don’t want to make him mad. I think there was some kind of order, you see. Something like “go away”, maybe.’
