For their part, the harpies landed in a hidden valley, surrounded by cliffs that offered natural protection from any intruders. The hooded men moved quickly, unloading their loads and tending to the wounded.
The Master monitored every move, making sure everything was in order. "Any problems during the retreat?" he asked one of his lieutenants who replied, "None, Master. The ice elves will follow the trail into the hills, as planned. Even if they suspect our intentions, they will waste days trying to locate something that is not there."
The Master nodded, satisfied. His confidence in the plan was solid, but he had learned not to underestimate his enemies. "And the insignia?" he asked suddenly, turning to the group and asking, "Does everyone have them?"
A murmur of agreement ran through the hooded men, but the young man who had lost his remained silent. His face paled as he recalled the moment he had fastened his belt before the retreat.
