The sky was still dark, the first hints of dawn creeping along the horizon. Captain Daniel Foster crouched behind a large boulder, peering through his spyglass at the Boxer encampment. The terrain was rough, with uneven slopes and thick underbrush, but it provided ample cover for their approach.
The Boxers had changed their tactics. After Amber's escape, they had reinforced their defenses. More guards patrolled the perimeter, torches lighting the paths between tents. The hostages were no longer scattered—they had been moved to a central holding area, heavily guarded and encircled by wooden barricades.
Foster lowered his spyglass and turned to Lieutenant Marcus Hale, the sharpshooter. "How many?"
Hale adjusted his rifle sight. "At least forty guards visible. Probably more inside."
Sergeant Elias Boone, the demolitions expert, scoffed. "They're expecting trouble."
"They should," Foster muttered.
