Evening had soon come. The oxfolk had sent someone during the day down the path, but Ares had soon lost sight of them. Ares remained ahead of the Reptai, sitting at the centre on a throne made of mound, one befitting his current status.
He was trying to rest up as best as he could, though the pain in his stomach did not allow him to. He didn't feel quite as bad as yesterday and some of his wounds had healed.
"Soon," Ares said. The words cut through the air like a blade, and each warrior nearby tensed up. The scent of death was encroaching. Ares inhaled deeply and then looked out to the warriors on either side of him. Zika was right beside him, on his right, and the tall imposing figure of Xan was on his left.
No oxfolk had left the fort. Man, woman, or child.
"Are you ready?" Zika asked. She could sense the apprehension.
Ares nodded his head, though he was unsure of himself. It was a question that he had no answer to, but he nodded anyway. He closed his eyes and hung his head.
