The setting sun was like blood, staining half the sky a dark red.
The mountain wind did not disperse the nauseating stench in the hollow. Instead, it carried over bursts of frantic, enraged curses from afar.
Slap, slap, slap...
Several orc soldiers were vigorously slapping their own cheeks and necks, purple-red welts rapidly rising on their skin.
"Bugs! Get lost!"
"Forget those crates! Grab the jerky and fire oil first, then head up the mountain!" The squad leader in charge roared, waving his whip.
Not far away, the laborers were frantically unfastening the dire wolves' reins.
The instant they were freed, the beasts, driven mad by the swarms of mosquitoes, bolted out and knocked over the fodder carts piled nearby.
These beasts, which were never particularly obedient to begin with, had now completely lost control. Whimpering, they rolled madly through the mud, trying to rub off the venomous insects clamped tightly onto their vulnerable spots, sending the packs and weapons on their backs flying.
But whatever the process, this enormous temporary camp was rapidly withdrawing toward the northern slope under the black cloud of insects' relentless drive.
Behind an earthen pit with a clear view, Reese lay pressed flat against the mud.
He buried half his face in the rotten grass along the pit's edge, controlling the rhythm of his breathing, terrified that his breath might stir the dead leaves before him.
Faster, faster.
He prayed over and over in his heart.
Once all those orcs had left this slope, he could go loot the treasure chests and spoils he had never even dared dream of before.
Come to think of it, this was his first time observing an orc army from so close.
In all his previous trips through Alser's Steps, he had never taken the southern route.
Or