Meanwhile, the Hobgoblin General, a menacing presence, demanded an explanation for the commotion.
"Are we under attack?!" he growled, his voice resonating through the camp.
"No, General," one of the scouts reported, his head bowed in deference. "It seems a stray wolf wandered too close to our camp."
"A stray wolf?" The General's eyes narrowed suspiciously.
"That's right, General."
"I thought Vraka had already eliminated the nearby Quillwolf den. There's still one that escaped? That Shaman was useless. He got himself killed and couldn't even eliminate all the enemies in the south. Now we're here because we have to clean up his mess."
The scout shifted nervously. "What are we going to do, General? Should we give chase?"
