Several sounds of boots opening the grasses as they marched further...
Their steps, inaudible, their backs hunched above the spiked bushes, night breeze securing their exposure, the smell of bronze, the movement of hand signals, their heated breaths...
Amidst them all, he was trapped!
Cowering amongst mighty men and their heated deep hunk scents.
Their glistening orbs focused on the outskirts, seeking, waiting for a signal, hunting for a smell...
And in that moment, when the loud cry of the warbird filled the paramount, their anticipating orbs snapped. Their muscled physiques tightened. Their swords cried for blood, swinging in the direction of mindless beasts rising above heights itself, their roars fueling the Battle of the night;
The battle of giants, where untold and unforeseen fates united to birth forth the odd stench of warm blood spills.
"CHARGE!!"
"YAH!!!"
