The sudden uprising of voices and shouting caused more than one man to draw their weapons. The two nearest pulled strong iron long swords, each lacing with snow. Roran stepped back and pulled a bow from his shoulders and an arrow from his waist beneath his fur cloak. The Wargs were thick, tall and as muscled as a snake. Grey hides that seemed to balance with the night and the heavy blanket of snow, wrapped around them. Gilly made a break for the first Warg, twisting his elbow to get a decent swing on the sword before it made an impact with the animal. 

The entire situation was a flash, Bane laid howling in agony as Rannor tried hard to subdue the bleeding. The three others pushed forwards, swinging heavy iron forged swords. Roran's mind moved back to the other, the girl. He released an arrow past Gilly and into the warg he was defending them from. She was quick, silent too. They were pathmen, they should have heard her coming. The remaining Wargs turned their attacks back and latched onto Rannor as he attempted to help his already dying friend. His voice gurgled into the increasing blizzard, echoing off every stone face. 

"Howan! Do something!" Gilly yelled, managing to overcome the warg that had clenched all jaws onto Rannor. The younger man stammered for a moment and turned to Roran who tossed a single firestarter. It was much larger than any previous, a heavy iron casing, encrusted with the sigil of their king. "Do it!" Gilly yelled, defending Howan for a moment. The younger man, unshaven and determined, dashed out into the open air. He pulled on the cord and closed his eyes. The valley lit up with a painful bang, one that shook rock and paralyzed both the Wargs and remaining Winter's Children for a moment. The snow shifted as the signal shot straight up into the sky. A vivid red trail followed on, lighting up all darkness for miles. A flare designed by the capital's best magicians to be so bright that any watchman at Cannor could see. They'd be safe within a few hours, providing the Wargs made an escape.

Howan had dropped and covered his ears, cowering under the intense noise. Bane had made no response, his body laid cold in the snow. Rannor laid crying, clutching his open arm as if he could stop the bleeding himself. Roran and Gilly remained stood, watching the Wargs with fear and intent. They had whimpered and cowered, chances are they would leave. The two men let out a sigh of relief as the creatures disappeared from the scene. Ignoring their injured and dead family. Gilly dropped back onto the snow, his weapon cold on the ground. They were safe enough. 

During the momentary struggle, the men seemed to have forgotten about Ysabel. Roran dashed towards Rannor, pulling his cloak off. His eyes scanned desperately around for something he could make a wrap out of. 
"Someone!" He yelled, scrambling over to the bearded and eldest man of the group. He yanked at Bane's undershirt and tugged as much of it as he could. He tripped back over his body and tried to wrap it around his friend's arm as he howled in pain.