Milo and his younger brother Lako crouched behind a sodden and decaying log, watching the column of human soldiers sort themselves out before resuming their march deeper into the forest.
The bodies of the slain humans were quickly wrapped in their own cloaks before they were taken up by the unarmored humans following in a second group behind the first. Looking at the faces of the ones gathering the bodies of the slain, they seemed indifferent, as though they were harvesting vegetables or hauling garbage rather than retrieving the remains of slain kin.
"They still haven't turned back," Lako said, his flat tail thumping the ground lightly in agitation. "Do they care nothing for the lives of their soldiers?"
