Hana turned her attention to the excavation trenches where the Fox Tribe was currently collapsed in the dirt.
They were wretched, their rags caked in grey rock dust, their seven tails and four tails flat in the mire.
Over the last week, the intense kinetic output she had demanded had broken their spirit entirely. They were beginning to openly wonder if throwing themselves off the ledge into the jaws of the mountain monsters would have been a more efficient end.
They bitterly regretted ever leaving the Whispering Ravine; even if their ancestral land was slowly rotting and drying up, it was their sanctuary.
Now, they were trapped here. If they tried to run back to their valley, they knew Caspian's flames would track them down and reduce their entire history to ash.
They were depressed.
Hana strode down the concrete ramp. She stopped at the edge of the pit, looking down at the trembling Chief.
