Several miles overhead, footsteps sounded on the plateau where the recent battle had taken place. A winged figure stepped to its edge and scowled, glaring out at the forest. Behind him, a dark haired archer knelt to examine the ground.
“They fought here.” The man said, “The Patronus were the victors, but they lost some of their number. I believe that only the prince, the sorceress and the child remain. Them and the sorceress’ family.”
The winged man nodded. “I have underestimated the resourcefulness of these so called heroes. I had thought them grown lax in their long time of peace. Their leader chose well ... a pity that they must all die. They would better serve our lord converted.”
A humourless laugh came from the archer. “You never know. Perhaps both can be achieved.”
Smirking, the Orsa’s commander nodded. “Perhaps you are right. But they have a head start on us – we need to keep moving.”