Chapter Text
The battle raged all around them, enemies on every side. It had been some time since Merlin had last seen his friends, separated from Arthur by necessity. His only reassurance was that Arthur had the knights of the roundtable at his side; surely they would do what Merlin could not, and protect Arthur by any means necessary.
He knew Morgana was somewhere nearby, likely avoiding risking her own life in the fray, but rather where she could overlook the battle and celebrate if she won, or flee to evade capture and death once more if she lost. Morgause undoubtedly at her side, feeding Morgana's hatred of those she had once called friends, using her power as a conduit for her vengeance.
The invading army were on the verge of overwhelming Camelot; they had the advantage of outnumbering Camelot's soldiers two to one, with a pair of high priestesses on their side. If Merlin could use his magic to fight them freely, they might have been in with a chance.
A cry rang out across the courtyard, Leon shouting a warning that came too late. Arthur held at sword point - the blade pressing against his neck, leaving a red line trickling down. To his side lay Gwaine, unmoving.
The frustration and feeling of helplessness in a situation where he had to pretend he had no power transformed into fear and anger. They overwhelmed Merlin, bursting out of his chest. Immense pain overrode all else, his abdomen and throat burned as the world around him shrank. Scales erupted along extending limbs, his back felt as though it was tearing at the shoulder blades.
Transformation complete, he stood at three times the height of a man, there was a snapping sound as he threw out his wings. Firelight of torches caught his golden scales. All around him men shouted, running for cover, their battle forgotten in the face of a mutual foe. Screams of 'dragon' resonated around him from all sides.
Red, hot anger fell from his mouth. Arrows and swords clashed against his scales, from friend and foe alike, now all focused on their common enemy. All equally ineffective against his hide.
To Merlin's relief, he saw Arthur released. He smiled, baring more teeth than he was used to. The stench of fear rolled off Arthur, yet he stood tall, and raised his sword toward the sky.
"For the love of Camelot," Arthur's familiar rallying cry rang out.
Gwaine's head lolled to the side, eyes opening briefly to take in the sight before him, widening in alarm at what he saw.
Merlin couldn't afford the distraction now, he turned his attention to their enemy, spilling fire across their ranks, killing them where they stood.
Leon, ever the efficient second in command, organised archers with flaming arrows to fire volleys at Merlin, as they had fought Kilgharrah years before, for all the good it had done.
He didn't know how he'd transformed, or how to return to his natural state, but he knew instinctively that so long as he was under siege the beast would not release him. Camelot's enemy were all but defeated, those left standing opted to flee rather than face a dragon. There was little more his staying could accomplish. With one last regretful look at the terrified faces of those he had called his friends, he spread his untested wings, and launched himself into the sky.
~
For a moment Gwaine hoped his head injury was causing a hallucination, as it would be preferable to a dragon in Camelot's courtyard, especially one stood where he'd last seen Merlin. Gwaine hadn't wanted to leave Merlin’s side, but Merlin had insisted Arthur was more important. Knowing better than to argue with the man once he’d set his mind to something, Gwaine complied, swearing he would return to Merlin's side as soon as he could.
Now, the courtyard littered with the bodies of their enemy stared at Gwaine in judgement as he picked his way through the debris, rocks that had until recently been part of Camelot's defences attempted to trip him up in his haste. In mounting horror and relief, Gwaine failed to find Merlin's body. Could it be he'd been so trampled he was left unrecognisable? Perhaps he'd fled in the moment's between when Gwaine had last seen him, and when he'd regained consciousness. He knew to hide when battle started, to leave the fighting to those trained for it. He never should have been near the battlefield, even as a physician.
But it was unlike Merlin to remain hidden when there were injured, especially after the fighting was over - if Merlin was alive, Gwaine would have expected him to be aiding the wounded to wherever Gaius had been able to set up an infirmary. Yet, as the moments dragged on, there was no sign of that familiar, scruffy crop of hair. There was another possibility Gwaine barely allowed himself to acknowledge - there were stories aplenty of dragons taking people captive. What if it had kidnapped Merlin? Gwaine's heart sank at the thought of how terribly wounded and afraid Merlin might be. It was of course better than his truest friend being dead, but Gwaine's stomach roiled at the thought of having failed another loved one. He'd sworn he was done letting down those who meant the most to him, but here he was, failing to find Merlin, knowing he had only a limited time before he was ordered to cease the search for a servant.
To his immense surprise, Arthur joined Gwaine in his search.
"He's not here," Gwaine admitted when he could no longer deny the truth before them.
"He has to be somewhere," Arthur argued.
"Did you see if he got away before the dragon landed?"
"It was so sudden… I don't know whether he had the time to flee, even if he had the sense to."
"What was he doing in the middle of a battlefield in the first place?" Gwaine demanded, fear for Merlin's safety turning to anger at Arthur for placing him in danger.
"You forget yourself, Sir Gwaine, I am your prince."
“You were supposed to look out for him, keep him safe."
"My duty is to all of Camelot, I cannot lose countless injured by keeping a physician off the battlefield. If you can’t follow orders, I’ll assign you elsewhere."
"I'd like to see you try."
"I understand that you're upset about Merlin, I am too-"
Gwaine didn’t want sympathy, least of all from the person who’d willingly placed Merlin in danger, and not for the first time. Before his brain could catch up with his body, Gwaine was swinging a fist at Arthur.
Arthur caught the punch easily, deflecting it, turning Gwaine around and restraining him in an arm lock.
"As I was saying," Arthur continued as though he hadn't been attacked, "I'm upset by Merlin's absence as well. I will not cease searching for him until he or his body has been found." Arthur sighed, "Unfortunately, there's a city to rebuild, citizens to reassure, and a dragon to hunt down. I cannot be seen taking the time to search for a servant, no matter who that man may be. My father would never stand for it. As such, I'm charging you with finding him. Take Lancelot, Percival, and Elyan. Find Merlin, bring him home."
The pressure on Gwaine's arm released, he suppressed the impulse to rub his sore wrist, unwilling to show weakness. "You don't believe he's in Camelot?"
"I spoke to Gaius before joining you here, if Merlin were injured he would have been brought to the infirmary, or else if his injuries were too severe, he wouldn't have made it so far that we couldn't find him."
Gwaine gestured to Arthur's hand where he clutched a scrap of cloth, "Is that..?"
"It's from Merlin's coat; it was pressed into the mud in the dragon's footprint. I can only assume the dragon has taken him to avoid us firing upon it as it fled."
"Did you see if it was carrying anyone?"
"It was dark, it's impossible to say with certainty, but at this stage it's our best hope. Regardless, we cannot allow the dragon to go free. If anyone questions your absence, I'll tell them I sent you to hunt down the dragon before it could return to threaten Camelot, but your primary objective is to find Merlin."
"Understood."
~
After years of being told that he and all those like him were monsters, it seemed reality had caught up with him. Staring at his reflection in the lake, there was no denying Merlin's monstrous nature. He didn't know how long he sat there, pondering his existence, where such powers had originated, whether he'd ever be able to return home if he couldn't figure out how to reverse the change. It stood to reason that this originated from his abilities as a Dragonlord, yet Gaius had never mentioned such a thing.
The rain of the night before eventually ceased, although not before it turned soil into mud, and every tree branch into a new shower when it was knocked.
He knew there would be a search party after him before the day was out, and he’d flown as far as he could manage on new wings that had not yet built up muscle.
As the daylight began to wane, Merlin had to admit he had no idea how to return to himself. As it was, he needed a place to hide while he figured things out. It wasn’t practical for him to remain within a day's walk of Camelot, knowing the pace at which a patrol could travel.
His best option was to hide somewhere further away - Balinor's cave would be ideal, if he could find it again from the skies. As it lay across the border in Escetir, Camelot's knights would avoid the area so long as Cendred was a threat, not to mention that following their recent encounter with Jarl, the slavers had likely moved elsewhere along the border by now, preying on travellers once more.
He spared a thought for his mother, Ealdor sat on that same border, a little way south of where Jarl's fortress had been. He hoped her village wouldn’t be targeted by the slavers to make up for lost merchandise. He knew that if she were in danger word would be sent to Camelot, and Arthur would send what aid he could. Arthur had a certain fondness for Merlin's mother, it allowed Merlin a little peace of mind, especially as he considered her reaction to word of his disappearance.
Balinor's cave had been isolated, the locals not wanting to venture anywhere near it. It made the place ideal for Merlin's purposes. Still, he hesitated a moment longer, not wanting to leave his home behind without knowing whether there was possibility of return, and also anticipating the pain of landing. Entering the sky had been comparatively easy to leaving it again. He shook his wings out, the left one twinging painfully from his first landing attempt, the mud hadn't helped matters, only assisting his collision with the tree. Before he could decide better of it, he launched himself into the sky once more and headed east, away from the setting sun.
~
It hadn't taken Gwaine long to convince the others to help him search for Merlin; Lancelot asked after Merlin before Gwaine so much as had a chance to bring him up, Percival was only too happy to agree to follow Lancelot on anything he asserted as a good cause, and there was no greater cause than finding Merlin. Elyan would have joined them, even if he hadn't felt he owed it to Merlin for the man's part in his own rescue from Cendred. They rode out within the hour.
"I've never seen a dragon up close before," Elyan said around their campfire that night, under as much shelter from the rain as they'd been able to build. "When it appeared as though by magic, I thought for sure it was summoned by Morgause and all was lost."
"Is it just me," Percival mused, "or did the dragon seem to be fighting on Camelot's behalf?"
"Why would it do such a thing? Gwen told me of the last dragon attack in Camelot, there's no doubt it saw us as the enemy."
"What do you mean it appeared as though by magic?" Gwaine asked. At the incredulous looks he received that he could have possibly missed such a thing, he clarified, "I may not have been entirely conscious at the time."
"Did Gaius clear you for duty before we set off?" Lancelot asked.
"No?"
"You mean to tell me you're out here, away from any physicians, after suffering a head injury mere hours ago?"
"Merlin needs us," Gwaine shrugged, as though that was all the explanation needed. No one argued against him, so perhaps it was.
"Merlin would be the first to tell you how serious head injuries can be. He'll be furious with you when we find him."
In truth, Gwaine hadn't even thought of his own injuries, hadn't been able to when there was one thought overwhelming him: Merlin was missing, likely injured or possibly dead. Gwaine could think of nothing but to find him. How could anything else matter?
"Ah, he already knows I'm reckless," Gwaine waved off, "now, about that dragon."
"It wasn't there one moment," Elyan answered, "then it was the next. There is no other way to explain it. It didn't fly in and land, it appeared in the blink of an eye, as though teleported."
"I always thought dragons were meant to be bigger than that," Percival added.
"Perhaps it was a young one."
"But where did it come from, and why would it only attack our enemy?"
Lancelot kept his silence, staring resolutely into the fire. Gwaine got the impression he knew more than he was letting on, but for whatever reason wasn't willing to share.
"If you all saw it appear," Gwaine started, "I don't suppose any of you saw Merlin move away from the area before it could injure him?"
"Merlin was down there?" Elyan asked in horror.
"Last I saw him." Gwaine took a swig from his wineskin, hoping the haze of alcohol would take the edge off his pain and worry. Abruptly, he found his hands empty.
Lancelot sniffed the contents, before rounding on Gwaine, "Combining alcohol with a head injury? Have you no care whether you wake in the morning?"
It had been some time since Gwaine'd had reason to care for whether he woke again. His life had no purpose, no direction. None who would miss him if he were gone. Many who would be relieved, even.
"Wasn't thinking," Gwaine dismissed, as though Lancelot's concern wasn't a disconcerting thing to be at the receiving end of.
"Whether you care for yourself or not, you can't help Merlin if you're dead."
Merlin. Now there was a reason to wake again. That dazzling smile, so brilliant it brightened even the darkest moments. It had been too long since anyone had believed in Gwaine, yet somehow, despite all Merlin had seen of him - the drunkenness, the brawling and gambling, the complete and utter disregard for his own life - Merlin saw something in him that he believed in, holding resolutely to the idea that Gwaine was a good and noble man. One worthy of Merlin's friendship.
"You're right," Gwaine admitted, "we should all get some sleep. I'll take first watch."
"If you've suffered a head injury," Percival said, "you're in most need of rest."
"I thought you weren't supposed to sleep with a head injury?"
"That's only if you're vomiting, so you don't choke, else, rest is the best thing for it."
"All the more reason not to be drinking," Lancelot added.
"I can hold my drink," Gwaine objected, "regardless, I thank you for your concern gentlemen, whether it's truly for myself or if it's for Merlin's well-being."
Exhausted as he was, sleep found him quickly - the thoughts of Merlin being held captive by the fearsome dragon followed him. He woke again all too soon. Shaking the nightmare off, he roused himself, and joined Lancelot at his watch by the fire. The rain, though lighter, was unrelenting.
Once Gwaine was able to find his tongue he asked, "Do you suppose the dragon really took Merlin?"
"Is that what you saw?" Lancelot deflected.
"I don't know," Gwaine shook his head, then stopped as his vision swam. "It was dark, and it all happened so quickly. It's what Arthur thought was possible, as an incentive to keep us from firing on it. He was nowhere to be found in Camelot. Where else could he be?"
"I wish I knew. Nor do I know how to track a flying creature."
"You tracked the griffin, did you not? Merlin told me you're the one who slew it."
"I'm afraid Merlin flatters me rather too much, I'm not the one who tracked it, nor did I act alone in its defeat."
"But you helped, yeah?"
"I suppose."
"And we'll find this dragon and slay it too, for ever daring to lay so much as one claw on our friend."
"Are you this fiercely protective of all your friends?"
Gwaine shrugged, as though it were of little significance, unable to admit to this noble knight what he'd told Merlin months before: Merlin was the only friend he had. He would follow Merlin anywhere, even to his own end, if only to see Merlin returned safely home.
Lancelot's bemused smile was lit softly by the glow of their fire.
"What?" Gwaine demanded, not appreciating the way Lancelot seemed to be able to read his soul.
"You care for Merlin a great deal."
"As do you."
"I do," Lancelot agreed easily.
Gwaine told himself he wasn't jealous. He'd already witnessed how close Merlin and Lancelot were, it was no great revelation that Lancelot cared for him. He knew he was too much of a mess, he'd never stood a chance anyway.
"He cares for you too, you know?" Lancelot said.
"He wrote to you for help, clearly you're the one he wants here. It's by a series of unfortunate circumstances that we found each other again."
"How blessed that some good came from all that misfortune."
Glancing at the two sleeping knights, Gwaine turned back to Lancelot, "You know more about this dragon than you're letting on. What aren't you telling us?"
"If there is something I'm not sharing, be assured it is with good reason."
"I'm going to need more than that. I will bring Merlin home, and you will tell me whatever aids our search."
"I know not why the dragon appeared, nor where it may have gone. I cannot help but marvel at the timing of its appearance, it turned the tide of the battle single-handedly. It's as Percival said, it seemed to fight for Camelot."
"Do you suspect Merlin's involvement?"
"Merlin would never act against Camelot, there is none with greater belief in Arthur and the king he will be."
"I can't help but notice, you didn't answer my question."
"No, I do not believe that Merlin summoned the dragon. If you're staying up, I will take the opportunity to catch a little sleep myself."
Lancelot left Gwaine alone with his thoughts, Gwaine was too wound up to sleep anyway, he may as well take watch. There was something about Merlin he couldn't put his finger on, the way the man was at the centre of danger, and managed to walk away without a scratch. Either Merlin had the most incredible luck, managing to evade wyverns up until the moment Gwaine had been there with his sword to save him, or there was something else going on.
He hadn't questioned it at the time, too relieved Merlin was safe, but how was it that Merlin managed to hold his own when threatened until someone came along just in time? He carried no sword, nor weapon of any other kind, wore no armour, yet he followed Arthur into battle without the merest hesitation. Lancelot knew something about Merlin, and more than likely about the dragon. He wasn’t sure what just yet, but it felt likely he’d find out before long.
~
Gwaine and the others rode for much of the day before coming across a clearing by a lake where something large had crashed recently. Broken branches, a couple of fallen tree trunks, and a long skid in the mud leading to the lake's edge, told of something monstrous crash landing.
“Merlin!” Gwaine shouted. “Merlin, can you hear me?”
There was no answer, and no sign of footprints leading away from the crash site. Whatever had landed here was likely injured, although not so severely to keep it from flying.
“I don't see sign of anyone,” Elyan said.
“We don't know that it was the dragon,” Percival attempted weakly, although it was clear he didn't believe it likely.
“How sure are we that Merlin was with the dragon?” Elyan asked. “It doesn't look like there were any people here.”
“Probably a good thing,” Gwaine said, “doubt anything would have survived a dragon landing on it.”
“Does that mean the dragon dropped Merlin somewhere between Camelot and here?”
“Let's hope not.”
“The route we took was fairly direct,” Lancelot said, “we saw no indication of such a fate. We have to believe he's still out there somewhere.”
After a long moment Percival asked, “How do we go about finding him?”
“Surely if he were able to, he would make his way back to Camelot,” Elyan opined.
“Perhaps not,” Lancelot said, “if he's injured he may head to Ealdor, if it were closer. Seeing as we're in the Forest of Ascetir, it's possible."
"Ealdor?” Elyan asked. “Isn't that across the border? What would he be doing there?"
"It's his mother's village,” Lancelot answered, “he speaks highly of her."
"Be that as it may," Gwaine interjected, "it still lies beyond the Ridge of Ascetir. It seems an unlikely route for somebody who's injured."
"Perhaps, but it follows the path the dragon took,” Lancelot went on, “if it continued in the same direction."
“So we're going with the assumption the dragon took him?” Gwaine confirmed.
“How else would he have left Camelot unnoticed? If he shows up, Arthur will send word. If you have any other suggestions, please, go ahead."
Begrudgingly, Gwaine had to admit he had no better ideas. "Can't say I'm too keen to continue on eastwards. I've not long come from Cendred's lands; if Jarl and his men are done licking their wounds, they'll be looking for elsewhere along the border to establish their base."
"I'm not so thrilled at the idea of going anywhere near Cendred myself after the last time," Elyan agreed, "but Merlin didn't hesitate when I was in need of rescue. We can do no less for him. I've not had the misfortune of meeting Jarl, who is he?"
"Slave trader."
An uncomfortable silence stretched on as the four of them calculated their odds of success beyond Camelot's borders where the lands would be rife with enemies of all sorts imaginable, and probably some they hadn't imagined. After all, none could have predicted there would be another dragon.
Percival stood from where he'd been crouched over the marks left by the lake, "Whatever it is that landed here, these marks suggest it took off to fly southeast."
"Southeast? Are you positive?" Lancelot asked. "That would take us south of Ealdor."
"Are we tracking the dragon or Merlin?" Elyan asked.
"Given that we've no sign of Merlin's tracks, I see little option but to track the dragon and hope we find the one by tracking the other."
"Not so sure Merlin's got the time for hope," Gwaine objected, although he had no other strategy to suggest. "We don't know what this dragon intends with him."
"If he wanted Merlin dead, we would have found his body before now. There would have been no need to take him this far."
"It's possible the dragon's marks obscured those of a human," Percival said, "the mud is fresh, smaller footprints would easily disappear under something so large as this."
“We’ll continue to track the dragon. If we find signs of Merlin we can always split into two pairs, and continue tracking both.”
"You guys'll have my back if we run into any slave traders or Cendred's men, yeah?" Gwaine asked jokingly, attempting to cover the unease beneath the words, warier of the border than he’d been in the past.
How often had he trusted an acquaintance only to be deserted the moment things went south? Merlin's loyalty to him had been as refreshing as it had been baffling, unused to it as he was. Here he found himself once more, with three men he barely knew, putting his life in their hands. For Merlin.
"We're brothers in arms now, are we not?" Elyan asked with a reassuring smile.
"You can count on us," Lancelot agreed.
Percival gave a solemn nod.
"Well, alright then," Gwaine said, "can't argue with that. Let's keep going."
"Hold on," Lancelot objected, "there's little light left, we should make camp. I want to find Merlin as much as any of you, but we're of little good to him if we keep going and end up with a lame horse for being unable to see the path."
"We wouldn't want to miss any tracks on our path either," Elyan added.
"We set off again at first light," Percival agreed.
Gwaine nodded reluctantly, "I'll take watch."
He already knew he was in for another long night. He spent the evening warming beside the fire, staring at the size of the marks left by the dragon. There were stories aplenty of knights slaying dragons, making easy work of their tough hides, but Gwaine had no idea how to take down a dragon.
When the sun broached the horizon, Gwaine woke the others. He wouldn't have been able to find rest even if he'd tried, so he may as well let them sleep.
He'd had enough practice of how to continue going on little to no sleep while held prisoner by Jarl. Being locked up with the other prisoners had left him a target, knowing as they did that any one of them might be called to fight Jarl's champion next, and that there was a reason said champion was Gwaine. Taking him out in his sleep would have increased their chances of surviving the next fight. To sleep had meant to die, and he wasn't ready to die. He hoped Merlin wasn't either.
~
Merlin remembered Balinor's cave as an unpleasant, draughty place, but he found it wasn't so bad this time. Perhaps it was the scales, or maybe it was the fact he was now cold-blooded. Either way, he couldn't overly complain about the accommodations, he was safe, sheltered from the weather and bandits alike.
Everything else, however, he had plenty to complain about.
Not for the first time, did he try to recall precisely what had occurred the moment he'd turned. He remembered Camelot's forces being overwhelmed to the point that their defeat seemed inevitable. He'd felt a hopeless desperation for some way he could save his friends. An anger that Morgana would turn on those who once called her friend. All-consuming fury at how all of this had been brought about by Uther's purge - his unwillingness to face the fact that his own greed and entitlement had killed his wife - all around him made to suffer, had been too much.
Usually Merlin was able to suppress the white-hot rage, but this time there had been no denying it, the feeling too large and immediate to allow itself to be suppressed until a later date.
He almost wished he'd taken the time to kill Uther before fleeing. It was a fantasy he'd had many times over the years, despite Gaius' repeated insistence that it was not yet Arthur's time. It was perhaps only his love for Arthur that stayed his hand, knowing how his friend would suffer at the death of his father.
Trapped as he found himself in this form, the monstrous nature that had lived deep within him all his life now visible to all who looked upon him, as misunderstood as the dragons he resembled, he wondered where he'd gone wrong. It was his destiny to guide Arthur to the Golden Age, to the return of magic. It was only by clinging to this desperate hope that Merlin had been able to withstand the oppressive weight of living in Camelot.
He'd hoped things might improve now he had a few more friends, Lancelot who knew his secret and accepted him anyway, Gwaine who didn't know him as deeply but valued Merlin and his friendship in a way he hadn't had since Will. Elyan who was the brother of his first friend in Camelot and had a heart as good as hers, and last but not least, Percival who he'd not known long, but was a true friend to Lancelot.
Had he lost all of them now? Even if he could figure out how to return to his normal state and to Camelot, how many had witnessed his transformation? Would he be put to death the moment he returned? The fury in his gut continued to boil, not yet ready to be doused by the grief of all he had lost.
What he wouldn't give to have someone, anyone, to turn to. For his father to be alive. Had Balinor possessed this power, had he known how to control it? Part of Merlin doubted it, with the anger Balinor carried every day up until his death, he could all too easily imagine him attacking Camelot as Kilgharrah had done, had he known this power. The worst part was that Merlin couldn't have even blamed him, not once he'd learned the full story. Every time he thought he knew the depths of Uther's evil, there was somehow always more.
He hoped he wasn't expected to overcome his hatred and fear of Uther before he was able to release the hold on his draconic form. He remembered when he'd performed the aging spell, using Dragoon to save Gwen from certain death. He recalled too how he'd performed the spell in a state of desperation and had been unable to shed its hold without Gaius' aid. Even if he could get word to Gaius, who was to say whether there was such a thing as a potion to reverse the effect of becoming a dragon. He couldn't imagine it was a common enough occurrence to have warranted much study, never mind it being in one of the limited books Gaius had been able to save.
He was unable to shake the fear that this was a one-way transformation, dooming him to live out who knew how many days in this form. Dragons were known for their lifespans of centuries, Kilgharrah himself was over a thousand years old, had witnessed kingdoms rise and fall. Was Merlin doomed to watch his friends from afar, as they grew old and died without him? As they moved on from his disappearance, forgetting him with time.
As far as he knew, Morgana had survived his retaliation, and would undoubtedly try again. Perhaps he ought to make the most of his fearsome form, and hunt her down before she could do any further harm. But how was he to do such a thing without being sighted? Surely rumours of his existence would spread, and knights would be sent after him, if they hadn't already. If he was going to act, he needed to do so sooner rather than later, regardless of whether he had a plan.
If Morgana and Morgause had joined forces with Cendred, then chances were they'd retreated to Escetir, which only improved Merlin's odds of finding them. Although smaller than Kilgharrah and unlikely to be able to cross quite as many leagues in the blink of an eye, the retreating army would be slow-moving with their injured. Perhaps if Merlin scoured the area at night, he'd track them down before they were able to find fortified shelter once more.