As they did back in Ferelden when he fought far too many of them just getting back to the farm and then leaving again, the glowing green eyes of the wolves unsettle him. Never a good sign when you make your living dealing with things that want you dead. Just another reason to get them all gone, to get the world back to normal again, the sort of thing more easily overlooked as one of those grand scheme of things deals.

“Bronson!” Asher calls, whistling sharply and the hound lopes around them both to herd the wolf back in with the pack. If they can keep the wolves in front of them it’ll make it more simple because even through armour they’ve got a bite on them, and mad as they are they might be able to hold on until they’re killed. He’ll need to ask later if that was a glyph because Amalia burns things and Korrin always likes to use lightning or she does around him but it’s getting the job done. Throwing his head back he lets out the sort of mad shout that terrifies foes, echoing through the air before he rolls with surprising neatness for a man of his stature. He spins, the cuts getting deeper as he goes, mindful of where he and Sam stand but managing to pen the wolves between them? Even if they can drop a couple it’ll make it an easier fight.