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Wilhelmina had been rather irked by the fact that Anakron considered her hard work on the Third Task to not be in accordance with his rules. But now there were other things to consider -- like the hanged man, and the likelihood that several of them might shortly be deceased. This was intensely disturbing; Mordor was a place of extreme annoyance rather than death these days, and they hadn't been warned that their attempt to leave might prove fatal!
There was one thing she knew: the girl, Fea, spoke with confidence, but she couldn't be right. As satisfying as it would be to lynch Anakron, they needed him to get out. Therefore...
"I agree with you ladies," Wilhelmina said, banging her walking stick on the ground for emphasis. We of the Offending Party have got to stick together. We haven't tried to kill each other yet, have we? I mean," she continued gesturing at several of her companions in turn, "Fléin's rather hairy, and Panakeia's a bit scary-looking, and Waldo there's always brooding about one thing or another, but that doesn't make them lycans. Not by a long shot."
Tinkerbell yapped irritatingly; Wilhelmina had decided that since the pooch hadn't been of any use to her, she could comfortably despise it.
"There!" she exclaimed. "Let's just say Tinkerbell's the wolf and be done with it."
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