He continued his hunt, his senses dialed to the maximum. The Ash Gray energy, now cleaner and sharper, filtered the auditory chaos, the dying screams behind him. He ignored the birds, the wind, the rustling leaves. He was looking for a specific voice… one that grated on his nerves like a stone scraping against bone.
He didn't have to wait long.
"...useless sack of shit! Hit it! Hit the legs!"
Sol stopped. A slow, cold smile curled his lips.
He knew that voice. It was the sound of arrogance. It was the sound of a man who thought he owned the world.
Vurok.
A cold, mirthless smile curled his lips beneath the shadow of the trees overhead.
"Found you," he whispered.
He altered his course, moving upwind. He climbed a low ridge, keeping low to the ground, his snake-skin cloak making him blur against the dark earth.
He crested the ridge and looked down into a wide, rocky depression.
There they were.
