blight schmlight... right?

The affirmative hum over his shoulder told him what he needed. With a nod, Oleander set off at a brisk pace, toward the Mile High Woods. Ignita would have already rifled through the samples and come to a similar conclusion about the sources of the sickness. The meeting between the minds would have just broken up by now. The quarantine decidedly ended and the sick wolves started to be brought into the warrens. Oleander had been out foraging though and would not have known about these particular events.

Oleander approached the edge of the Mile High Woods, the dark limp form of a slave over his shoulders. He was going to start getting a savior complex and a reputation at this rate. He lifted his voice for The Warlord to meet him at the northern edge and continued his pace inside the Woods toward the Col. His voice had an urgent but unhurried tone. He knew the Warlord would not be expecting him here.

"Speech!"