Veros leads the way, resuming their approach to Rodare. In the back of their minds, all six Mistwalkers expect some sort of fight at the village, with nothing to support their hypothesis except the strange galloping sounds they've heard twice before, and the fact that no walking corpses have been encountered since departing Arrenstead. Their instincts simply scream at them that something strange is afoot, and they've grown inclined to believe it.
When the first buildings of Rodare come into sight in the middle of a clearing, the four men at the front and back of the group dismount their horses and they slowly make their way to the village center. Atticus and Veros go out of their way to inspect the small homes that reside along the path, finding no traces of active undead. The process is slightly hurried here compared to Arrenstead, as they only seek to pass through instead of rest for the night, and they've grown anxious at the self-imposed fear of an ambush.
Before long, they come upon intersecting roads that cut across the middle of the village, leading towards all four cardinal directions. Atticus looks at the dirt beneath his feet and stops walking.
“Veros.” He calls to his comrade.
“Yes? What's wrong?” The veteran responds.
“Look.” The knight points toward the ground at the center of the intersection. Veros turns his head to see a vast collection of footprints coming from the east, west, and south, merging together and heading north.
“What on earth?” The veteran utters as he leers at the dirt. “There must be about, I don't know, forty or fifty sets of footprints heading north out of the village.”
Atticus walks forward, approaching the northern road, and kneels to inspect the prints further. “Here,” he announces, “a set of horse footprints, too.” He points out hoof-shaped prints, barely perceptible underneath the gathering of human-shaped ones.
“I guess this explains the absence of undead in the area.” Veros guesses. “They do seem somewhat fresh, considering they're all going in one direction.”
“Where the hell would they go?” Kellar asks, both puzzled and frustrated. “I'm tired of wonderin' when these bastards are gonna pop out and attack me.”
“Either way, it doesn't seem that any fights will be happening here in Rodare.” Veros replies. “We might as well just mount and continue ahead. But now that we know they've all moved north, we should be careful, because we could still run into them while we're on the road.”
“Fuckin' hell.” Kellar curses under his breath, sick of being anxious and constantly looking over his shoulder.
“Let's go.” The team leader announces as he mounts his horse. The group proceeds forward, no longer interested in clearing out Rodare with the usual, slow procedure after seeing the footprints.
After leaving the village, the group keeps their eyes on the cluster of footprints leading down the road for an unknown distance. It's hard to gauge the exact number of individuals that make up the collection, but it's obvious that it's made of a few dozen separate sets. With this in mind, the Mistwalkers cautiously anticipate a possible run-in with the alleged horde.
Another few miles pass, and they still haven't encountered any undead. Veros, however, notices something odd with the footprints below them.
“Is it just me,” he begins, “or are some of the prints starting to veer off the road? Like that.” He points to an upcoming, isolated trail that turns and steps off to the roadside, where the rocks and grass conceal them.
“I think I noticed a few of them do the same thing earlier.” Atticus remarks. “What are they planning?”
Veros turns his head to examine the tree line, but notices no movement among the foliage. The plant life is completely still – at least what he can see before the wall of fog covers everything. “I have no idea.” He answers, unsure of where the deviated undead could possibly be. “I haven't seen or heard a single sign of undead off the road. Everything's been still. Eerily so.”
Rather than continue speculating the reasons, they decide to continue following the road. Slowly but surely, more and more sets of footprints begin to fall off the trail and turn from the path, thinning the cluster of prints significantly in only another few miles. They silently begin to doubt the existence of an ambush, as even though the prints go off the road, no movement has even been noticed behind the tree line, suggesting they've all simply spread out and probably aren't in the area anymore. As they began to suspect, the trail eventually thins enough that only the horse prints remain.
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“They've all left the road.” Veros comments. “I don't understand. An undead veers off the path every several hundred feet for no discernible reason, but I haven't seen activity along the roadside. Did something distract them?”
Atticus furrows his brow in bewilderment, as equally perplexed by the development as his companion. He second-guesses any idea that enemies lie in wait for the group somewhere ahead and begins to entertain the thought that this was all some sort of strange coincidence. Otherwise, what sort of advantage would be given to the undead horde by splitting up in such a way? After a deeply pensive moment of deliberating, the knight is struck by a thought. He quickly turns his shoulders and head to look behind the team, into the nigh impenetrable grey mist at their south.
“Did you see something?” Veros asks, distracted by the knight's sudden movement.
“Wait.” Atticus responds, holding his hand up. “We need to stop for a moment.” He announces to the others, and they all halt their horses.
“What's wrong?” The veteran asks again, puzzled at the sudden sense of urgency.
“I think we're being followed.” The knight answers, gazing with extreme intensity at the road back south.
Veros looks at the southern fog, as well. “Followed? You think they sneaked around to our backs?”
“Just a hunch.” Atticus gives a short, vague answer without turning to look at his comrade's face. “Let's just wait a minute.”
The others, unsure of the knight's intuition but with no other leads, decide to stop and quietly watch the nebulous, constantly-shifting fog to the south. An uncomfortable silence shrouds them as they all refuse to take theirs eyes off the road leading back to Rodare. The leaves of the trees are unstirred, and due to their stillness, even the usual sound of their horses' hooves thumping against the dirt are gone. Moment after moment passes, and the group begins to develop a sense of unease and vulnerability by simply standing there and doing nothing.
“I really don't think anythin's behind us.” Kellar comments nervously. “How could all those undead–”
“Just wait another moment.” Atticus uncharacteristically cuts him off with a firm demand to stay patient. Not willing to argue with the tense knight, Kellar returns to anxiously watching the mist at their south.
More suspenseful seconds pass, and Atticus starts to become agitated. His fists tightly grasp the reins of his horse and his jaw clenches with anticipation. Isolated beads of sweat slide down the side of his face as he leers at the grey abyss without a single blink. He knows that he could probably speed this process up by riding back south a ways, but if his hunch is true, then that could be extremely dangerous. The only option he has is to sit and wait. Just as the group begins to turn impatient, Erik lifts his hand and points.
“There.” The noble says, directing everyone's attention into the colorless mist.
Atticus narrows his eyes and finally sees what he had hoped not to: an armed undead with its shield raised, slowly pacing forward, advancing towards the group. However, a second shadowy figure emerges from the fog right after the first: another armed undead. Then a third, then a fourth, then a fifth.
“What the hell?” Veros asks, shocked at the presence of the hostile corpses. “They fuckin' did sneak up on us!”
“The footprints.” The knight answers. “They knew the footprints would keep our attention ahead of us, and used it to get to our backs. They must've stayed hidden behind the treeline and waited for us to pass them, and followed us by staying behind the fog.”
“Cheeky fuckin' bastards.” Kellar curses.
More necrotic foes appear from the veil; a sixth, then a seventh, then an eighth; there's seemingly no end to them. Just as their vast numbers start to become apparent, they suddenly break into a run, charging at the dumbfounded Mistwalkers who were successfully caught off guard despite acknowledging the likelihood of an ambush earlier.
“The fuck do we do?!” Kellar yells in a panic.
“We run!” The knight orders, turning his horse to face north and breaking off into a sprint with the others following him. As his horse gallops with great speed towards the north, Atticus turns to watch the charging undead fall behind and once again become lost to the mist. To ensure their safety, they don't stop there, and continue to rush forward to put as much distance between themselves and horde as possible. However, after only about a half mile's dash, a tall silhouette impedes their path.
“Wait!” Atticus, who is at the front of the retreating group, commands everyone to stop.
Their horses come to a halt and they stare ahead at the approaching shadow. It steps forward, revealing itself to be not only another undead, but Legion cavalry sitting atop a necrotic, near-completely skeletal steed. Unfortunately, it's not alone. Accompanying it is its own platoon of armed corpses wielding bows and swords.
“Fuck...” Kellar utters, the color practically draining from his face at the seemingly hopeless situation they've caught themselves in. He turns around, expecting the horde to catch up, but they haven't just yet.
“We need to clear a path, Atticus.” Vero calls to the knight with urgency. “I hope you can perform that spell you mentioned earlier.”
“We need to get rid of that rider, first.” The knight responds. “Quickly.”
“Dismount!” The team leader yells. He, Atticus, Royd, and Kellar immediately climb down from their horses. “Royd! Kellar! Keep an eye on the rear!”
“Aye!” Royd yells in acknowledgment. The woodcutter and rogue turtle behind their shields, their eyes keenly but anxiously watching the southern side of the road.