Howl in Desperation

The lull in combat was troublesome for Tycondrius. While it allowed him and the forward group to rest, it also allowed the troops silent introspection.

It was all too easy to give into dread and despair. It also bred doubt, festering like an infected wound.

It frustrated him.

In his carelessness, he allowed his killing intent to seep through, nearly causing Munifex Justus to lose control of his bladder. Again.

Tycon was silently thankful for the sharp-minded Shield Maiden, Gianna, for noticing it. Of anyone in the cohort, she was the only one likely to realize that Tycon was not, in fact, the Bronze-Rank Warrior he said he was.

....Not that it mattered.

After ten minutes, the three runners returned, reporting that they had lost track of their fourth. They remained verbally hopeful that their companion would return to the main cohort.

No one truly believed that. Tycon, least of all.

Within the next half-bell, a second pack of kobolds came to investigate the pained cries of the injured. They were wiped out, much like the first. The enemy fired blindly into the brush, but the Rhodoks sustained no injuries.

That pack was comprised of fifteen Iredar, bringing the number of dead to twenty-one. The first dying kobold had finally found the sweet embrace of death. The recent attack found two more kobolds severely injured, living a torturous hell.

Were they to cease their cries, Tycon only needed to toss more bloody encouragement.

The number of fifteen, however, Tycon found peculiar. Iredar operated in packs of nine... Fifteen hinted that there was a reason for them to consolidate.

The most obvious explanation was that the First Cohort had begun hunting down the patrols. In that case, the Second Cohort's escape had a higher chance of success.

Tycon shared these thoughts with the forward group. Just as doubt swelled and festered, the troubled men and women would grasp onto any hope with the same zeal as the dying kobolds praying for death.

The Holy Country of Tyrion was one united by religion. Their worship of the Eternal Flame brought their kinsmen a collective sense of unity. It could light the courageous hearts of men and women aflame.

It was an excellent tool, perfect for the current low-morale situation.

Even with the increased risk in mind, Tycon wanted to eliminate a third patrol. He wouldn't press his luck any farther than that. Every Iredar dead would increase the probability of the Second Cohort's success and survival.

He shut his eyes and listened to the dying kobolds. Their cries were dissonant music to him, heralding the oncoming battle.

...

Chief One-With-Spots lapped at the river stream. It was tiring carrying his iron sword around. His archers weren't doing well, either, hungrily drinking from the clear waters.

"(Chief, we can't keep this pace,)" A golden-furred kobold with floppy ears crossed his arms. The tongue hanging down the side of his mouth revealed the older dog's own fatigue.

One-With-Spots bared his teeth momentarily, "(I don't remember asking for your opinion, Sun-Fur.)"

Sun-Fur pointed at the troops, growling, "(My archers can barely keep up. If we come into battle, and they don't have the strength to load their bows, then who suffers?)"

One-With-Spots felt his ears flatten... "(Forgive me, Sun-Fur. I just...)"

Sun-Fur nuzzled his maw on top of One-With-Spots' neck, hugging him close, "(I know, Chief.)"

One-With-Spots did not reject the affection. He was worried, truly worried. His old friend, Sun-Fur felt his pain.

The Iredar Chief sighed, "(Attacking the caravan was a mistake. The Head Chief's decision was too hasty... The humans' armor is too thick. Their spears and swords, too sharp.)"

Sun-Fur let go and whined, "(The supplies run low. Caravans grow more scarce. This raid would have allowed us to move without worrying for our pups.)"

One-With-Spots marched in a circle, barking in frustration, "(That's what I mean, Sun-Fur! ...That's... that's what I mean.)"

The golden-furred kobold sighed, "(You worry for your daughter, Half-Ear...)"

It was true. Half-Ear grew up a sickly pup, but he and his mate showered their child with no less love than her brothers and sisters. She grew up healthy and strong, with a beautiful spotted blue coat like her father. Her right ear remained stunted and short, as it did when she was born, but it never flopped over her dominant archer's eye.

She became one of Sun-Fur's best students, surpassing even him in accuracy and skill.

One-With-Spots let out a yawn, "(I know Half-Ear can take care of herself, but...)"

Sun-Fur yawned as well, grunting with his tongue out, "(It is a father's right to worry for their children.)"

A different pack of Iredar approached from upstream. Their Alpha, a spear-wielder with dark-blue fur running over his eyes, barked in a troubled greeting.

One-With-Spots stepped forward, warily, "(Scruffy, I thought I smelled a bad dog.")

Scruffy growled, deep and low, but stabbed the staff-end of his spear into the dirt, "(There's trouble, One-With-Spots, if you can quit chasing your own tail long enough for you to see it.)"

One-With-Spots had never gotten along with Scruffy. They had been friends, once, but that all changed when they competed over a mate during their adolescence. One-With-Spots had won the heart of the love of his life, Cinnamon, while Scruffy ended up mating with a tramp from a different tribe.

Even so, there was something in Scruffy's voice that didn't sit well with One-With-Spots. He felt a worrisome feeling deep in his gut and involuntarily let out a troubled whine.

One-With-Spots exchanged a troubled look with Sun-Fur before looking back to the dark-furred kobold, "(Speak.)"

"(The humans are encroaching upon the forest. Many patrols have been routed or annihilated.)"

Sun-Fur growled, "(That's not all, is it? What are you hiding, Scruffy?)"

Scruffy flattened his ears and let out a subtle whine, "(We heard the howls of one of the patrols, crying for help... It's...)"

One-With-Spots felt his heart drop. He bared his teeth and drew his iron sword, placing it against Scruffy's neck, "(Don't say it! I'm warning you, you son of a bitch!!)"

Scruffy growled back, "(Your useless barking won't make it any less true. I heard your daughter's pitiful howl, crying desperately for help.)"

Even with the sword at his neck, Scruffy pressed a hard paw into One-With-Spots' chest, "(Crying desperately for *you*.)"

One-With-Spots tossed his sword away and grabbed both paws onto Scruffy's armor, "(Then why are you HERE and not THERE??!)"

Scruffy stared back, unafraid, "(Half-Ear is the best gods-damned archer in the tribe. Whatever took out her pack can take out mine.)"

Growling, Scruffy shoved back One-With-Spots before adjusting his armor, "(Now, are we gonna save her or not?)"