They crouched on the ridge overlooking the camp, the firelight below flickering against their faces.
The night hummed with restless energy, wagons creaking and beasts grunting in their cages.
Arden scanned it all once more, his eyes half-lidded as his senses wrapped through the camp like a net.
"There are seventy-three men," he finally said, his voice low but certain. "Most at vein surge, some weaker. Three at vein bloom, the bandit leader you remember, plus two more.
Two of them also a hybrid, I can feel it in the way their aura stutters.
Rael gave a low whistle. "You count them like they're coins."
"That's exactly how they should feel to you," Arden replied. "Numbers. Not walls."
Nyra leaned closer, brow furrowed. "What about the arrangement?"
