"I smell some beasts..."
The voice came low and sure, from Feral, the Lord commanding the group. He paused, lifting his head into the frigid wind, nostrils flaring as he sniffed the icy air like a bloodhound tracking prey.
Without warning, he leapt from the back of the towering bear beneath him, landing soundlessly in the snow. A few of his men dismounted and followed, trudging through the thick drifts before forming a loose line at their Lord's side.
"Has anyone passed through here recently?" one of them asked, scanning the barren white landscape.
"They're close," Feral said, inhaling deeply once more. "The scent is still fresh."
"I bet it's some rookie squad panicking the moment they heard we were coming," one of his men sneered.
"In weather like this, they wouldn't get far anyway. We'll catch up and cut them down with ease."
"Maybe they ran... or found somewhere to hide," another offered, eyes flicking across the snow-laced terrain.
