The first faint blush of dawn was painting the eastern sky when Cadogan and Madog, moving like ghosts themselves, finally slipped back through the precarious barricade of the tower. Rhys, Owain, and Griff were there, their faces pale and drawn in the pre-dawn gloom, weapons clutched in their hands. The relief that washed over their features at the sight of the returning pair was palpable, quickly followed by an almost unbearable anxiety.
"Well?" Rhys demanded, his voice a harsh whisper. "Did you see the devils? Are we all to be butchered in our sleep?" Cadogan, leaning heavily against the cold stone wall, every muscle screaming in protest from the night's exertion, nodded towards Madog. "Report," he managed, his throat dry.
In terse, economical phrases, Madog described what they had seen: the layout of the camp, the hide shelters, the central fire, the eight figures visible with perhaps four more unseen, the shaman-like leader, the wolf-dogs, and, most importantly, the haunches of freshly butchered deer hanging near the fire. He recounted the close call with the dog and the sentry, his voice never wavering. As he spoke, Cadogan watched the others. Owain and Griff seemed to shrink with every word, their eyes wide with a fresh wave of terror. Rhys listened intently, his one good eye narrowed, his expression grim. "So, they have meat," Rhys said when Madog finished. "And we have none. And they know we were close enough to smell their cook-fire." "They don't know we know about their food stores specifically," Cadogan corrected, though it was a small distinction. "They know we are here. They likely assume we are starving. They might even expect us to make a desperate move."
He pushed himself upright, ignoring the protests of his body. "The water we brought will last us perhaps two days, carefully rationed. The rabbits are a memory. We cannot survive here without a reliable source of food." "And you think we can just stroll into their camp and ask politely for a haunch of venison, lordling?" Rhys sneered, though the fight in his voice was undercut by the hollow look in his eye. "No," Cadogan said. "I think our only chance – and it is a slim one – is to take it."
A stunned silence filled the tower. Owain made a small, choked sound. "Take it?" Griff echoed, his voice cracking. "From them?" "You saw them, Arglwydd," Rhys said, his tone incredulous. "Ten, twelve of them. Armed. With those dogs. We are five. One old man effectively, two terrified boys, a one-eyed brawler with a rusty axe, and yourself, begging your pardon, barely strong enough to swing that sword you carry." "Madog and I saw their camp routines," Cadogan pressed on, ignoring the brutal but accurate assessment. "They keep their main food store near the central fire, but slightly to one side, away from the most heavily used shelters. The dogs roam, but mainly stay close to the living areas. The sentries… Madog, you said they were lax at times." Madog gave a curt nod. "Before dawn, after a long night, some grow careless. Or sleep."
"It would have to be tonight," Cadogan said, his mind racing. "Before they change their routines, before they become even more suspicious after our presence near their stream and their camp. We need a diversion, something to draw the attention of the dogs and any wakeful sentries away from the food stores." "A diversion?" Rhys scoffed. "And what grand diversion would that be? Owain here doing a jig in the moonlight?" "Fire," Cadogan said, his gaze intense. "A small fire, set at the edge of the woods, on the opposite side of their camp from the food. Something to make them look that way, to send a few of them to investigate." "And who sets this fire, risking their own skin to be the bait?" Rhys challenged. "I do," Cadogan said quietly. Another silence, heavier this time. "You cannot be serious," Rhys finally said, his voice flat. "You, out there alone, trying to start a fire with those things roaming about? You wouldn't last five minutes." "Madog will create the diversion," Cadogan corrected, looking at the scout. "He has the skills to get close, start a small, quick blaze, and withdraw unseen. While that happens," he turned back to Rhys, "you and I will approach the camp from the darkest side, the one furthest from the fire I saw them banking for the night. We aim for the meat rack. One haunch, that's all we need. Grab it and run. Owain, Griff," he looked at the terrified youths, "you will remain here. Barricade the door. If we are not back by the time the true dawn breaks… you are on your own. Try to make for the stream, then follow it west, away from their camp. It's your only chance."
It was a suicidal plan, born of utter desperation. He knew it. Every man in that tower knew it. To deliberately approach an enemy camp, to steal from them, with their numbers, their skills… "They will expect us to be desperate," Cadogan said, trying to inject a confidence he didn't feel. "They will expect us to be broken by hunger, perhaps try to forage for roots or berries. They will not expect a direct, audacious move on their own supplies so soon after they know we've scouted them." He looked at Madog. "Can you create such a diversion, Madog? A small, quick fire that will draw eyes but not immediately suggest a full attack on their camp?" Madog considered for a long moment, his gaze distant. "Possible," he said finally. "Dry undergrowth to the south-east of their camp. Wind is usually from the west at night. Smoke would carry away from us. Risky. Very risky." "Everything is risky," Cadogan repeated. "But this… this gives us a sliver of a chance to eat, to regain some strength. Without it, we die here anyway."
Rhys ran a hand over his grimy face, his one eye staring at Cadogan with a strange intensity. "You truly mean to do this, don't you, lordling? Walk into the wolf's den?" Cadogan met his gaze. "If there is another way, Rhys, I am open to hearing it." The silence that followed was answer enough. There was no other way, only varying degrees of certain death. "Then let us prepare for tonight," Cadogan said, his voice a dry rasp. "Pray to whatever gods you hold dear. Because tonight, we either eat, or we join Dai in the cold earth of Glyndŵr." The taste of the morning's clean water had already faded, replaced by the familiar, bitter tang of fear and the gnawing emptiness of starvation.