Wilds - Sneakin'

After some grumbling discussion about scouting and spying, the party splits up. The main force retreats to the west. Their intent: find a temporary camp site where loud, armor-wearing party members can hunker down while stealthy scouts maintain watch on the entrance for the rest of the day and another night. Mordikarr and Dagmarten remain behind to keep watch. Since Rawon and Ingvild can both see in the dark, they'll take the night watch.

At dusk the night shift heads out, and an hour later the daylight scouts reach camp. They report no activity at the entrance, though there were some noises from inside as the sun set. It sounded like Stev was moving around and talking to himself.

Nothing of note occurs around the camp site for the remainder of the night. As night turns to morning the waxing moon disappears behind thickening clouds. Dawn is a gray and dreary affair. "Rain," mutters Dagmarten, as the first drops begin to fall from the lowering skies.

Shortly after sunrise (well, estimated sunrise), the scouts return and report. "It was busy last night," says Ingvild. "There are a fair number of those critters inside."

"And Stev."

"Right, and Stev. He came out right after dark, carrying that big chain of his. He didn't hang around for long. Looked around, sniffed the air, then headed off south."

"I swear he looked right at us," says Rawon.

"How could you tell? All those weirdly placed eyes..."

"Anyhow," continues Ingvild, "shortly after he left, three of the bug things came out and hung around the entrance for a while. Then five more. They all grouped up and went off to the northwest. I guess they were a hunting party. They were gone for a long time, four or five hours at least. When they came back they were carrying something, but we couldn't really see what it was. I'm guessing food."

"I think whatever it was, it was wrapped up in webs," adds Rawon.

"Any sign of the little ones?" asks Ohwatoo.

Rawon shakes his head. "Nothing else came out, and Stev didn't come back either, so he's still out here somewhere."

"Eight of those things? That's not good," mutters Durego.

"So what's next?" asks Raúguey.

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