Gaven guessed correctly; indeed, there was a graveyard of cargo trucks here, some of them still quite fresh, probably abandoned only a few months ago.
Some were half-sunk into the muddy ground, half-rotted, covered in various fungi. Those, for the most part, were of no repair value—to use them for firewood would be considered too much of a hassle.
Others had been dismantled, leaving only a skeletal frame behind; it was hard to tell whether other merchant caravans had taken parts or whether the nearby Lizardfolk had dismantled them for use as firewood.
A rough estimate would put at least a hundred trucks here with some repair value.
Gaven's eyes suddenly narrowed, and he took a bold step forward, shielding Anna behind him, gripping his Hand Cannon in one hand and resting his hand on his Longsword with another, he shouted at someone not too far away, "Who's there? Come out!"
