The Scarlet Moon fell to the ground.
The remnants of its red glow slowly dissipated.
The pale light of dawn emerged from the distant horizon.
The battle also finally approached its end.
Sporadic sounds of bowstrings echoed in the smoke-filled temporary camp.
Mutant Clay Golems, fearless of injury, were doing the final cleanup of the mounds of corpses and not-quite-dead monsters.
The flames that blazed intensely rose once again.
The black, rolling smoke mixed into the thick fog.
The heaps of bodies that needed to be burned gave off a nauseating stench.
The refugees, anxious all night, started bustling about once more.
They had no light task; they had to level several slopes on the hillside to lay a foundation for future construction.
Almost everyone had slept poorly, yet they all worked with vigor.
Last night's battle and victory told them they had found a good new home.
Strength in battle, which could bring them safety, was far more effective than those unmet "promises"!
