The Wolverines run through a forest, the light of the moon shining through the trees overhead; washing over their backs as they march onward. They have been on the move for days now; non-stop with no food or rest – doing their best to make as much distance as possible between themselves and The Mine. Coilla makes her way to the front of the warband to meet Stryke.
“Captain, the grunts are starting to get restless… We need to stop and make camp.”
Stryke keeps his gaze fixed onward as he keeps the warband at pace, he doesn’t respond immediately as if contemplating and weighing the circumstances. He slows his pace, his Wolverines following his actions as he raises his hand to signal a halt; then looks to Coilla.
“Just a few hours, then we need to get moving again. I fear there are worse things following us than guards or Trolls.”
Coilla nods and begins barking orders at the grunts as Stryke takes the cylinder from his belt; he tries to hide his panting, doing his best to mask any hint of weakness from his Wolverines as he whispers to himself, pondering his next move.
“Like our queen…”
Haskeer and Alfray make their way towards Stryke, their arms looped underneath a Hobgoblin who looks to be struggling to walk. The orcs stop a few feet away from Stryke as Haskeer pushes at the Hobgoblin’s back who drops at Styke’s feet – panting heavily. Haskeer sneers.
“Practically had to carry this lazy bastard since we left The Mine…”
The Hobgoblin is on his hands and knees, panting heavily. Styke looks to Alfray and Haskeer.
“What the hell do you do to him?”
Alfray looks to Haskeer who shakes his head.
“I didn’t do a damn thing to him; just needs to learn how to march.”
“Pull yourself together…”
Alfray leans down to the Hobgoblin and helps him to his feet, he rests his hand on Alfray’s shoulder – doing his best to keep his balance; still gasping for breath.
“You said that if we went this way, there would be a town, and that you knew some people with a boat.”
The Hobgoblin nods his head, starting to catch his breath.
“Yeah… We shouldn’t be far now.”
Stryke crosses his arms, skeptical, but he doesn’t have much else to go by in the way of a plan.
“And these people are friends of yours?”
The Hobgoblin nods.
Styke stares at the Hobgoblin, who begins to shift uncomfortably.