Sol moved through the gates of the Veynar settlement just as the blood-red dawn fully broke over the palisades. The heavy war drums had finally ceased their rhythmic thudding, replaced by a low, buzzing hum of collective panic that hovered over the whole tribe like thick smoke.
Warriors were sprinting across the inner rings, their bone-shields clattering against their chests as captains barked out frantic commands to shore up the secondary lines.
The civilian sectors were in complete disarray; women dragged crying children into the reinforced stone basements of the spires, while elders huddled roam around the near the main areas trying to stabilize and organize the situation.
The smell of fear in the air was tangible, sharp enough to cut through the heavy stench of the rotting muck.
