They came in waves.

First the stragglers, lone wolves and pairs who had been running since Obsidian's first strike, gaunt and hollow-eyed with the particular look of people who had stopped sleeping because sleeping meant stopping. Then small groups, families who had managed to stay together through sheer stubbornness or luck. Then larger clusters, fifteen wolves, twenty, moving fast and low through the tree lines with children at the center and fighters on the edges the way packs moved when they expected to be hit at any moment.

By the second day after Cael died, there were over two hundred wolves in and around the Bloodfang ruins.

Marina stopped counting...