Ishmael frowns at the dilemma, frustrated that he can do nothing about it. The worgs have made off with the horses, an oversight on his part that should've been guarded against.
"Dry thine eyes, Percy" he tries to console the Sorceress. "We shall avenge thine steed. The worgs shall not go unpunished"
"The worgs shall return soon, perhaps even tonight if not the next eve. What should we do about this?"