Ten minutes later, Sol returned to the dry brush where the spirit warriors were crouching. His movement made no noise, his eyes were sharp as he looked at the nine squad leaders who instantly crowded around him.
"They are all out for good," Sol said, his voice a low, rough whisper. "The guards on the outer perimeter are fast asleep, with no hope of waking up anytime soon. But forget about the layout we saw at the Zerith camp.
This place doesn't have any clean alleys or back escape paths to block off. It's just a chaotic heap of mud houses and stitched hide tents sprawled randomly across the flat ridge.
They threw their shelters together wherever they felt like dropping their bones."
Joran, frowned as he looked down at the mud. "No paths? If there are no trails to channel them, how do we divide the squads? If a fight breaks out in the center, they'll scatter in every direction like startled mountain hogs."
