XVI: Signs of the Enemy

The Hakurians are burrowers. They live out the vast majority of their lives underground. You'd think that would separate our worlds enough to have avoided war, but evil has little interest in leaving things that effortlessly simple. And they are evil. They come out from under your feet. You kill them as soon as you see them well enough to stab. That's all anyone ever needs to know. That's all that matters.

Well, that and the fact that the woods we had entered were bloody swarming with them. That mattered one hell of a lot. When they're moving fast, not looking to create permanent tunnel systems, they tunnel high, where the soil is looser. Leaves huge whopping tracks, if you can call them that: not impressions in the ground but cracked, raised paths of turned earth punctuated by the occasional hole where something on the surface was unfortunate enough to attract their attention. The area was so churned up with Hakurian paths it was a wonder the trees were still standing at all. Their roots must have been mulch, not unlike all the diced worms squirming out their last on the surface.

It all meant we were probably utterly screwed and a lot earlier than I'd thought. They were obviously active here and not even trying to hide it, less than three miles from one of our bases. Meant they had a strong army or that they knew ours was full of petrified peasants. Meant also that we could run into one at any time, and with the ground in its current state they'd move fast. I had seen a Hakurian tunnel at high speed through clay before; I sure as hell did not want to be chased by one travelling through something as soft as this.

The only good side in all of it was that the danger was so evident even thick-skulled Wrathwrought responded to it. Silent and serious for the first time since I'd met him, he prowled on ahead, leaving his horse tethered to mine. He'd even taken off his jangling chain mail shirt, muffling it in his blanket and stowing it in his saddlebag. Occasionally he stooped down to rub soil between thumb and forefinger or paused to inspect the trunks of trees as though any of it meant something to him.

I doubt it did. In fact, I considered him to have made a major mistake just by dismounting: the footing here was atrocious. In all likelihood, we were going to take a wrong step at some point: why put your own leg in the path of potential breaks when you could just as easily let a dumb beast take the fall? Wrathwrought did not think logically.

That said, I couldn't overestimate the simple fact that he was quiet. My ears could enjoy precious peace, so I suppose I should at least thank the enemy for that.