It was rumoured that Angrboda was in hiding somewhere in Ironwood, leading a pack of werewolves that preyed on the Folk that were gathering in numbers on the outskirts of the forest. I didn’t investigate the rumours.
Meanwhile, the Folk were assembling, little bands of warriors, at first—no more than a few hundred at a time, armed with swords and axes and shields and sometimes just farm implements—drifting in towards the southwest. There had been a few skirmishes, but nothing more. The Folk were still uncertain. Rumours of an impending war, omens in the winter sky, nightmares, sudden deaths, ominous flights of migratory birds—all premonitions of bad things to come for Mankind and the Middle Worlds.
It was rumoured that Angrboda was in hiding somewhere in Ironwood, leading a pack of werewolves that preyed on the Folk that were gathering in numbers on the outskirts of the forest. I didn’t investigate the rumours. Angie wasn’t my biggest fan, not after the way the gods had dealt with Fenris, and I was in no hurry to introduce her to Heidi.
