Marching into Doro Town had been easy, but when Major Marlow tried to retreat, he discovered that getting out was another matter entirely.
A pack of wolves had set its sights on him.
A thin film of mist clung to Major Marlow's officer's coat, bringing a bone-deep chill in the morning light.
His warhorse snorted clouds of white vapor now and then. They quickly dispersed in the cold air, as though the morning light had torn them to pieces.
More than a thousand infantrymen of the Garrison Regiment trudged along the winding mountain road. Heavy brigandine and halberds scraped harshly through the snow as the men moved through the mountains like a rusty chain, slowly and laboriously.
In the woods beside the road lay the bodies of the advance squad's soldiers, torn apart the day before. The weapons scattered around their mangled remains bore silent witness to the wilderness's brutality.
Major Marlow's gaze swept over the bodies, and a chill rose in his heart.
"The First Company's lost another twelve men up front."
His adjutant's voice was colder than the mountain wind, breaking into his thoughts.
The adjutant's breath condensed into white mist in the cold air as he continued.
"The sentries said they heard a deer call last night."
A deer call was a signal used by hunters in the mountain forests.
Major Marlow's brows knitted tightly. He knew exactly what it meant. The enemies dogging his heels were treating the Garrison Regiment as prey.
"How many more days until we reach Ankandela?"
"At our current pace, it'll take at least another five days to get home."
Five days?
That was a long way indeed.
"The messenger we sent out..."
"He's in there."
The adjutant helplessly pointed at a body in the woods.
Major Marlow remained calm.
"Then we