But Queniel pointed one end of the longbow in his hand in that direction: "Make way for our glorious comrades—!"
The Tree Elves immediately abandoned the flanks and once again drew their bows together—this was the first volley by the Tree Elves since entering the battlefield. The massive Elf Longbows were drawn to a full moon—a series of creaking noises.
"Life Arrow!"
"Strong wind, direction due east!"
"Two hundred feet, one hundred fifty feet, release—!"
The archers simultaneously released their bowstrings, and everyone seemed to hear a soft, buzzing sound at the same time as a shadow swept across the sky like a flock of migratory birds taking flight.
Arrows reached the peak of their arc in mid-air before diving down like raptors, a rain of arrows descending upon the Winter Wolves' heads, as if doom was upon them—the Death God swung its scythe, and countless Winter Wolves toppled to the ground.
