They attack at dawn.
Anther carries his friends into battle: Dornan, Torra, Perrin and Stellan clinging tightly to his harness as they descend from the still-dark skies, hidden beneath the snowstorm that Stellan and his prince summon with an effective combination of magic; working hard to balance the task of providing cover while tempering the winds so that they don’t throw themselves from Anther’s saddle in the same instant.
Thæon crouches ready behind Anther’s crown of horns; Morak beside them where he flies in Gryka’s form: a large black bird, feet curved into vicious claws, face morphed into darkness and pointed with a razor beak. He carries Ríenn and Eidan behind his wings; the two of them casting nervous but determined looks as they descend from the skies into the upper courtyard of the decaying stronghold.