Life of the Party

In all his hundred and something years, Arowe had never felt so terrifyingly close to death. Closer than when he was struck by Tsigane's arrow. Closer even when he was impaled on the War's giant tusk. That accursed Lightning tree had sucked the very life from him and would have surely killed him if he'd been alone. Despite his weakened and vulnerable condition though, he was proud he'd stood with his teammates.

Regardless of his current struggle to even string his magical bow, he's uncomfortably aware, that his ongoing enfeeblement was costing the party time trying to cosset him. Still, Sir Briefadel's instructions had been rather vague...

'Find the pool if you can and get back to me. You'll be handsomely rewarded if you're successful.'

'Handsomely rewarded'?

In their excitement of discovering the Three-Quarterling's magical loot, they hadn't really considered what Sir Briefadel had actually intended... Gold? Magic? Land? A title?

Ultimately they were searching for the 'Dryad pool' for the sake of adventure rather than reward and were therefore under no real time constraints.

Then Liga Bur heard the wolves and suddenly Arowe felt the desire to move. A sizable wolf pack is no joke and they've been known to take out many an unwary elf in his childhood back in Glendorne.

Arowe tries to remember how much land wolves can travel in a day and to calculate how much time they have? If they stay camped, the wolves will be on them in about two days. If they ride at a gentle enough pace for him to recover a little, they'd stay ahead for a couple of days more. If they ride hard though, they might even double that but he'll not get any chance to recover any more of his strength back.

Whatever his friends decide, however weakened he is, Arowe knows that he'll stand with them 'til the last.