The patch-wolves recoil from the suns and the light, but try to follow- or they do until they get stung, anyway. Each stung wolf flinches away, clutching at their eyes and heads as eldritch visions begin to seep into their minds. The boys can see the patch-wolves quickly dissolving to madness, attacking each other and trying to tear themselves apart- soon enough, the air smells like copper, but the wolves don't follow them downstream.

For now, things are peaceful again... or as peaceful as it gets with the dark fog swirling, teasing the riverbanks.