Dione was in her tent, still minding the ache in her side where she had been hit by an arrow, when she heard the low rumblings and loud proclamations of conflict outside the tent. With a sharp groan, she leaned out of her cot to pull on her shoes. She saw the shapes of strangers through the door. As she limped out into the camp, her eyes narrowed. She took in the faces of the Broms, now in the heart of their territory.