But how?
How would he come down and still be alive after a second?
Coming down into that was a different kind of problem.
The ground directly below the tree was a mass of movement, his undead fighting, the Valdenmoor knights fighting back, the wolves cutting through the crowd and the skeleton knights holding whatever ground they could.
Coming down into the middle of it meant landing in the worst possible position with enemies on every side and no clear line to run.
He watched the fight and tried to find the angle.
The wolves were doing well. Better than well, honestly. They moved through the crowd in ways that living wolves didn't move. They had no hesitation to them, no self-preservation instinct pulling them back from a hit or pack behavior making them wait for each other either.
One of them had gotten its jaws around a knight's sword arm and simply held while the man screamed and tried to pull free.
