They moved swiftly, racing against time. Another village and another target of the relentless undead. Ren and his warriors advanced across the wild terrain, pushing their weary bodies forward. The battle they had just endured clung to their muscles like lead, but the rest would have to wait. Lives still hung in the balance.
They arrived at the top of a grassy hill that overlooked the next village. The breeze blew steadily against them, cool but thick with the foul scent of rot and death. The winds carried the distant, haunting wails of the dying: soft, ghostly echoes that mixed with the rustling of the tall grass below. It was a grim chorus of suffering.
