winter protects daycare

From the north, maybe two or three blocks away, I heard the scream of Huntsmen’s spear blasts, and a sudden sonic razor blade of ripping, tearing sound that was the simultaneous war cry of a dozen malks going into battle.
And then, flattening that sound was the bone-shaking blare of a Jotun’s horn, the same one from before.
And my stomach fell out. Because shotguns were not going to help against something that big, no matter how many of them we had. They’d only make it mad.
Hear me, Winter, I thought. Converge on that engagement. Kill anything that tries to harm those children.
The air was suddenly split with the screams and battle cries of ogres and gnomes, malks and Black Dogs, the wild ululations of a couple of Wyld Sidhe, the strangled moan of a freaking Rawhead, and the chittering screech of some of those damned big spiders that had been such a pain in my ass on several occasions, as they all leapt forward at their fastest pace to find and destroy the enemy.
Murphy gave me a wide-eyed look, glanced down and back, and then set her jaw.
“Go!” I shouted.
The Harley roared.
And with monsters as our vanguard, off we went to be Jotunslayers.

Battle Ground Chapter 19, Page 184