Smoke from burned trees curled through the dark as the massive caravan of fighters moved with mechanical urgency. Underfoot, the earth trembled like something angry lurked just below the surface, because it did.
"Pick up the pace! Don't get your selves surrounded!" Darin barked as another tremor rocked the rear lines.
The company had begun reorganizing into tight, efficient wedges as ordered, but it wasn't enough. Not yet. They were bleeding fighters by the hour, and the swarm was adapting.
Darin jogged alongside the command line, warhammer slung over his shoulder, eyes flicking between regrouping squads. The terrain was uneven, rocks and ruined roots snagged boots, and smoke turned the night into a suffocating fog.
Then the Sorceress appeared beside him, striding like a ghost out of the haze.
"We need to talk."
"Can it wait?"
