There was no moonlight in the sky, and it was surely pitch-black down the mountain, but up on the peak, lingering daylight hid behind the clouds, giving the night sky a deeply layered look. Especially along the horizon, a faint white glow remained quite distinct.
Mountain mist billowed and rolled, adding to the cold and desolation.
The campfire behind them was still burning, crackling away. It was likely the sole source of light and warmth on this mountain waist, and had it not been for this, no one could have slept here.
An Yang stood straight at the edge of the cliff, gazing into the distance. His back view did not resemble a mortal, but rather an immortal Elf.
"Hiss..."
He took a deep breath.
"The Orcs really have tracked us down," he said again, his tone completely devoid of any joking intent. "Before nightfall, I set a sentinel by the road, and it discovered the tracks of Orc Worg scouts."
"What?"
The group of dwarves behind him, huddled around the campfire and resting against the windbreak on the mountainside, were instantly startled and stood up in unison.
"Is what you're saying true?" Thorin asked.
"Well, that's troublesome." Gandalf also stood up, grasping his staff as he looked into the distance.
"Or perhaps he's just pulling our legs. Hahahaha, my friend, your joke isn't funny at all. Even if some wandering Orcs have discovered us, that hardly counts as 'tracking us down,' does it? At best, they've merely stumbled upon a group of people in the wilderness that they can't afford to provoke!"
An Yang turned his head to gaze at them for a moment, and said, "There is a foul, fishy stench lingering in the air, along with the oppressive scent of large carnivores. Those are Worgs; I cannot