Vane woke to the violent shake of Aldric's hand. The time was exactly zero three twelve. Not zero four hundred. The northeast terrain had masked a natural, unmapped draw. The hostile cluster had sprinted through the blind spot at twice Fen's projected rate while they slept.
By the time Aldric felt the heavy shift in the ambient field and shook his commander, the monsters were already inside their outer threshold.
Vane surged to his feet, his hand instinctively locking onto the Silver Fang's activation point. It took him exactly three seconds to orient himself. He checked the glowing perimeter markers. He listened to the frantic scraping of claws against stone in the northeast. He had the complete tactical picture.
But Aldric was already gone.
