"Captain?" The Captain opened her eyes. "Yes, Nilfrog. My apologies. Gorman's intel leads me to believe that the Champions will move into dwarven territory. Assuming they take the fastest route, they will reach the borders in about two days. If we are to meet them, we must be swift. There is no way for us to reach the southern pass without attracting the Warlock's attention. I propose we cut across the mountains." The orcs around the table began to murmur. The mountains were utterly treacherous to any living thing, and the prospect of crossing them was a daunting one. The Captain raised her hand, signalling for their attention. "I know a path." Silence fell over them. "Long ago, I discovered a traversible route from Khazak'run into Fellmore through a southwestern passage. It is still dangerous and bitterly cold, but better than any other option we have. We must cross it. The Champions cannot be allowed to face the enemy in their current state. We will take our wargs through the pass and harass the enemy to weaken them so that when the Champions do strike, they may succeed. Any questions, comments, or concerns?" They all shook their heads. "Sounds like a workable plan to me," said Gilf, the short orc. "My only concern is whether you can manage it. Our thick hides protect us, but you're thin as a thimble. You'll need some form of protection." An amused smile tugged at her lips. "Well, what do you propose then?" "How about one of us hug you the whole way?" he suggested. The Captain snorted. "Excellent, you're hired." The whole table of orcs began snickering. Gilf sniffed and crossed his arms. "I can still do it, you know!" he cried, and the snickers burst out in to full-throated laughs. The Captain came over and slapped him on the back. "I appreciate the thought, Gilf. I know your heart is true. I will hunt and acquire a coat myself, so there will be no need for you to carry me." Turning to the others, she declared, "We leave by nightfall. Make sure you've hunted or traded for everything you need before we depart."