You give the order, and horses are brought for you and your warriors. By the time you're in the saddle, the distance between the riders and the encampment has been halved, but they have not yet caught the figure who still flees before them.
You dig your heels into your horse's flanks and the beast surges forward onto the steppe, the others falling in behind you. You sense the tension in those who follow you—many of them are not true warriors but simple farmers and craftspeople of the tribe who have volunteered to keep watch during the night. "It's all right to be nervous," you shout back to them. "Just form up behind me, keep your wits about you, and we'll be all right."
The fleeing rider wheels his horse around you, riding through the gates at a gallop. The Black Wolf riders chasing him, knowing that you will not allow them the same luxury, adopt a wedge formation and draw their swords as they thunder toward you.
Your blade takes the first man in the throat, and he sags sideways in his saddle, dragging his horse to the right and into the path of one of his comrades. The animals collide and fall to the ground, and then you are upon the next rider. The man has just dragged himself free of his mount when your own horse tramples him into the dust of the steppe. You turn around to see that your own riders, too, have handily dispatched their opponents.
Look for the Rider