Patrik Boden stood in front of the rows of injured and dying that already filled the tent. He was ashen and blood stained his shirt and arms. He was the Markis Ansvarig of Isarna, with thousands of trolls under his care, and he’d brought along so many to fight in this battle.

And I understood the look on his face completely. The horror and icy resignation that all of this was happening because of the decisions we made. That lives were lost today because we asked them to be here, fighting this impossible enemy.

Only time would tell if it had been worth it, if what we gained outweighed all that we lost, if we’d gained anything at all.

But now wasn’t the time to wax philosophic, and I shouted at Patrik again, “We need to evacuate!”

“We can’t!” He shook his head, and behind him, Rikky looked up at us while she wrapped a wound. “There’s too many wounded, and some of them will die if we move them right now.”

“We’re all going to die if we don’t get out of here,” I said.

Outside of the tent, the saber-toothed cats let out guttural roars, and they were loud enough to be heard over the screams.

Patrik looked back over his shoulder at Rikky and said, “Start with the ones we can move the fastest.”

Then, in a strong voice, Rikky barked out orders—directing the other medics and healers to start gathering patients and gear for the arduous journey down the narrow mountain trail.

I went over to Knut to help him to his feet, but he only shook his head.

“I’m too slow,” he said. “Help others.”

“I’ll come back for you,” I said, and went to aid Minnie with her work securing a wounded teenager to a stretcher.

We worked quickly, getting as many of the wounded ready as fast as we could, but it felt like a Sisyphean task. I ditched my jacket, using the ripped-off sleeves for a makeshift tourniquet, and now I ran around in a camisole with blood drying up, and my long curls pulled up and secured with a tassel from the jacket.

The flaps of the tent burst open, and Loki came in, helping a limping Tove along, and Finn followed a step behind. They’d helped Tove into a chair by the time I got to them.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Overexerted myself,” Tove said wearily, and ran a hand through his tangles of hair. “Need a minute. But I’m okay.”

“I thought you were supposed to be halfway down the mountain by now,” Finn commented. He was banged up and dirty, but his expression was stoic as usual.

“We’re trying to evacuate,” I said. So far, only a half dozen of those that could move themselves had gone. Everyone was rushing around trying to get the immobile patients ready to go.