Obren chuckles grimly. "Considering we just dragged ourselves through the swamp for three days… it better be."
You sigh.
"We'll see, come morning."
Next
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Darin rushes past scattered, confused soldiers as he reaches the front of his war camp, where the sudden shouting had arisen.
He and his men have set up at the very edge of the jungle, fortifying and readying themselves for any attack. This close to the mouth of the jungle, the faintest hints of the morning sun can be seen.
At the edge of camp, just beyond the barricade of fallen trees he had the men construct, four Kroridian scouts drag themselves forward. One man only manages a few more steps before his legs give out and he collapses to the ground. Blood pools beneath him.
The two in front frantically wave their arms and shout in Kroridian.
Darin, struggling with his bad leg, scrambles up to the top of the barricade. At the top, two rangers are aiming their crossbows further down the path.
Rusty in his Kroridian, he cannot understand the scouts. He asks one of the rangers, "What the hell are they saying?"
The man glances at Darin, expression grim. "Sir, they're saying… 'they're coming.'"
Shit.
Next