In an instant, the giant wolf was on top of the old man. The two struggled in the darkness, neither side showing an advantage. Cato’s mind ran wild, and he felt his heart slamming against his ribs. This was not possible, he thought. If Skoll was there, then…
“You’re still dreaming!” Skoll roared. “You must awaken!”
Cato’s eyes shot open. He was laid on his back, the maiden moon stood above him, bathing him in her cold light. He sat up and examined his surroundings. He was in a cart of some kind. The night was still young as well. To the back, a long trail of torches stretched out in a two-column formation as far as he could see. Cato turned to see the front of the column. He made out a group of Equites, but he couldn’t make out the leader. At the forefront of the column rose the Aquila Eagle of the IX Legion Hispania.
“Costa?” Cato mumbled to himself.