Some hours earlier,
The scholarly moon palace commander, Eugene, adjusted his monocles as he glanced upon the remains— or lack therein—of the camp he'd stationed to observe any movement.
All he could see was a massive pool of blood, and everything else vanished from sight. He frowned, turning to the side and holding his chin, his gaze calculative, "This is weird."
He'd made sure not to reveal their positions in their readjustments. Everything was in place, and there was no way these men could have been wiped out without leaving a trace.
"They are overextended from the main camps, but," Eugene crouched, rummaging the grass with his hands, raising a bow, "The enemy's movements should have left a big trail."
Unless they flew with all the items from the camp, or had some sort of terrain control skills to hide their tracks. Eugene quickly stood to his feet, "I guess they installed a scout."
