I can smell them.
Horrops have that odor - dirt mixed with something sour and stale. Like too much raw meat. Or death.
I don't remember them smelling this bad. On Nerwolix, I'd been mostly concerned with their size and the sharpness of their fangs, but without that distraction, all I can concentrate on is their odor. Rotten, like trash. I tighten my blindfold, itching to wipe the sweat from my face. The Horrops' stench drifts closer and I inhale.
There are five of them.
Like the other times.
Two are in front. Three round behind me, creating a perimeter maybe ten feet out. I inhale again, breathing in the other clues. They're hungry. Famished. As if they haven't eaten in days. This is a rouse, of course - something the Lost Princesses have made them believe. It amps up the aggression, their need to win. I sniff, drawing their scent further into me. There's something else there... fury? I sniff again. Fury that I've taken their young. The Lost Princesses used both this time.