John's gaze followed Crom's pointing, settling over Soah. It was a question that, despite everything that had just happened, made him uncomfortable to contemplate. Having a werewolf around was a liability and there wasn't any way around that, he thought. He shuffled a bit on his feet, and wore down into the snow by increments as he mulled, more than the problem, his feelings about it over. That werewolf wasn't going anywhere by the look of him, they'd been attacked and they owed him nothing. After a moment of silence he looked back and forth between Crom and Griff, choosing his words. "I don't like the idea of leaving him, but we can't have this happening regularly." He frowned to himself, it didn't seem like a good enough reason to leave somebody to die, but it was fair, wasn't it? He couldn't answer his own question. "I think..." He sighed with frustration, "I think we'd best just move along, Adrian's right." Before he could turn to walk, a faint rattling become audible from somewhere down the road.

Behind them, the smoke from the burning hulk of the Roumont had ceased as the cracked vessel slipped beneath the waves. Only a dark cloud remained, drifting slowly inland. The town's gates had opened after the guard had been unable to turn anything up in the forest, and the unknown threats to the town had failed to reappear. As soon as the open nature of the town had become apparent, a shabby wooden cart, open topped and packed with crates, crested upon the path behind the party. A pair of black horses pulled it along, pressing deep hoof marks into the snow that were mostly wiped away by the wagon's wheels. A portly, long bearded man sat the helm of the carriage, wrapped securely in a fur collared, black greatcoat. He was, quite apparently, a merchant delighted to finally be leaving Aldrun after the day's festivities. Truly delighted, because a quartet of foot-weary travelers sat atop the crates and on the sides of the wagon, hitching a ride along to wherever they were going. Some of them stirred a bit, and a nod was given to the merchant. The wagon slowed to a stop beside the party, the driver sitting rigid and alert at the sight of blood in the snow. He still looked overconfident approaching such a scene, considering the people in the back were not carrying any obvious weapons. He looked up and down the road, searching for traffic coming and going, before settling his dark eyes on Crom. "That looks like it could use some help. Could it?"