The sandflats quickly covered most traces of combat. Nicos and his companions staged the scene as best they could, leaving the dead mounts submerged in the sand, and burying the corpses. Their hopes were that any further scouts who stumbled upon the scene would see the mounts, drowned in the quagmire, and assume that the riders had met the same fate. Presumably when said riders attempted to jump free of the dangerous area.

It was a gamble, but Nicos was relying on the dangerous nature of the desert to dissuade deeper investigation. At worst, it would buy them a few minutes of time, as the next group of scouts would have to act more cautiously. At best, the Naru's trail was lost entirely, and the slavers gave up on following them.

Nicos glanced over his companions. "We need to keep moving."

Urz nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line and his brow furrowed. The young tribesman had scarcely said a word since the battle had ended. He had been the one to deliver the killing blow on both of the slavers. It was clear that he was still processing the violence. Nicos was just glad that his friend hadn't broken down into tears. The boy wasn't sure how he would've handled that.

Grasa was less composed, and the other two hunters were even worse. Their hands still shook from the after effects of battle-lust, and their constant fidgeting had not gone unnoticed. One of the hunters continuously rubbed at his wrist, where a splash of blood had coated him. The fluid had dried, and flaked away, yet he still rubbed the skin raw.

Nicos struggled to imagine what was going through their minds. He simply had to move on. There wasn't enough time for anything else.

"Urz," Nicos prodded. "Next target?"

His friend twitched at the reminder. His eyes flicked to Nicos, then to the ground, and he knelt in the sand. Moments passed, each more awkward than the last. Nicos could hear the nervous shifting of his allies, and their clothes rustling in the wind. After nearly a minute, Urz stood up. His shoulders slumped in relief, and his face lost its grim pallor.

"They have fallen to the desert," the young hunter said quietly.

Nicos blinked. "Say again?"

"The other trackers," Urz clarified. "They are dead."

The mood of the Naru visibly lifted at this news.

Grasa smiled. "The desert defends its children."

"How did they die?" Nicos asked.

"It seems as if everything has gone to plan," Urz replied. "One group fell to a pack of dune dogs, another stumbled across a nesting lion-beetle. The last suddenly vanished from the sand's Memory, but they were trekking across a roc's hunting grounds. I believe it is safe to assume that they are dead."

"Huh," Nicos remarked, more surprised than relieved. Everything had gone as planned. That was... entirely unexpected, actually. He realized that some deeply cynical part of himself had assumed he'd be killing at least a dozen men this day. Eurya's influence, he assumed. Even so, as unexpected as it was to Nicos, the plan had been a good one.

The Naru were known to traverse the desert in safety. They chose the path of least resistance, those without danger nor risk. That reputation did not extend to just the Naru, but all the desert tribes. One did not survive in such a harsh place by taking needless risks. The slavers must have assumed that the trail would be safe. Perhaps they had even assumed that the split in trails was not because they had been discovered, but rather that the Naru were attempting to avoid yet another natural hazard.

How many in that caravan had truly lived in the desert, before? How many had hunted, or survived, in these harsh conditions? Nicos doubted that it was many. Few would choose such a place, when a city, with all its comforts and safety, was nearby. And what few there were, were likely unused to traveling in such numbers. Though the Naru's ability to read the sand was not muddied by huge numbers of people, Nicos' own method certainly was. Perhaps the slavers suffered the same issue.

Regardless, the caravan had just lost sixteen of its members. That was a significant portion of the total. How they reacted to that would determine the next step in the plan. With any luck, they would send out rescue parties; more trackers to kill. Nicos and his team could whittle them down even further. At some point, they would lack the men to assault the Naru's main camp. They would have to give up, and leave. The idea of large-scale cooperation would be crushed, killed in its infancy. Hopefully, never to rise again.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

That was the general idea, at least.

"Continue to monitor them," Nicos ordered. "We'll take a rest, and move when they do."

The group settled in for a break, digging furrows into the sand and taking shelter in the shade of a large dune. Nicos kept watch, while the Naru focused their senses on monitoring the enemy caravan. Slavers paced to and fro, nervously awaiting news from their trackers. Though none of the tribesmen could identify Vaughn Cardin, they all felt multiple footsteps coming and going from the largest wagon, repeating every few minutes.

Keeping him updated on the situation, Nicos guessed. What he couldn't guess, was how long the trackers had been expected to journey out for. At some point, the slavers would begin to wonder what had become of them. Until then, neither Nicos nor the Naru could act with any certainty. It was better to conserve their strength, and regain their mental balance. They settled in to wait.

While they waited, Nicos plotted. The trackers they'd encountered had been even less competent than the boy had expected. With a single exception, they seemed less skilled even than those that he had killed in his initial encounter with the slavers. Were they the norm, or had Vaughn Cardin sent out his most expendable troops first?

He simply did not know enough about the man. He couldn't predict how the slaver would think. Nicos could only base his plans on what he himself knew of the Naru, and therefore what the slavers would assume about them. They were not a violent people. They had fighters, who might survive whatever blood-sports the man was running, but Nicos guessed that the majority of the desert tribes were simply more pliant, and breakable, as slaves. More likely to submit, rather than rebel. Pacifism, or something close to it, was not a great survival trait, when your neighbors were slavers. The desert tribes had avoided extermination for so long, only through the sheer peril that their home environment projected. They knew this, and used it to their advantage.

The Naru were playing as hard as they could into their enemy's preconceptions. This would not be the first time that they had led their enemies into danger, even if it was certainly the first time on such a scale. The slavers were bound to catch on, eventually. Nicos could chalk up this most recent mistake as a bad assumption; Vaughn Cardin and his ilk had no reason to think that the Naru had spotted them so quickly. Now though, things would change. There had to be at least a few proper trackers in the band. People that knew the desert, in truth.

They would be the next wave. Nicos could only hope that they were few in number.

They had to be. There were less than forty members left in the caravan. The Naru had already whittled down almost a quarter of their enemies, and through almost entirely remote methods. There would be significant discontent at that. The core of the caravan, the actual, seasoned warriors, should be questioning the leadership. Fomenting mutiny was the Naru's best chance at survival. Every death that Cardin's orders caused, brought his warriors closer to open rebellion. The man would have to send out his best, now. His most cautious, and loyal. Or turn around, but the boy doubted that he was so lucky.

He was quickly proven right, as night fell. Selene took her place above the sky, right as Urz grunted in surprise.

"They are moving," the tribesman said. His eyes were closed as he focused. "Groups of seven— no, eight. Five mounted, three on foot. Four groups, thirty two in total." Urz's eyes opened wide in horror. "That's almost all of them. We cannot fight that, Nicos. Not even separated as they are. There are too many."

"No," the boy agreed, mind racing. "And they will be moving cautiously, mindful of the danger." He drummed his fingers against his thigh, aware of the fear slowly growing in his companions. An idea tugged at his mind. "How many are left at the camp?"

Urz frowned. "Ten."

Not good odds, either. Nicos eyes trailed thoughtfully upwards, to Selene. Her gaze was elsewhere, and the night was dim. There was an opportunity, here. He could feel it.

For all that Eurya had claimed resonance as a basic skill, Nicos had encountered few people yet who had used it. None at all had done as Eurya had taught, using resonance to constantly ignore the need for sleep. Of all those he had encountered thus far, it seemed only Nicos bore that particular skill. The rest...

"They will sleep," Nicos said. "They all will. They'll travel as far as they can in the darkness, but they will eventually have to take a break." He looked to his companions. The day had been long, and they were tired. "So will you." He paused. "But not me."

Ten men left in the camp. Nine men between him and Vaughn Cardin. If he cut off the head of the snake, would the body die? How much control did the man have over this caravan? Would they fall to infighting, or still try to claim what profits they could? Nicos couldn't know.

But he couldn't let this opportunity slip by.

There would be few guards in the camp. One or two men to keep watch, at best. The Naru did not attack, so why bother? They needed only to fend off hungry beasts, and fire would serve that purpose well enough. Perhaps another guard for Vaughn Cardin's wagon. Would the man fear knives in the dark? Not from the Naru, certainly, but perhaps from his own men.

Could Nicos kill that many men, by himself? It was the sort of feat he had once mentally associated with his family. Only a hero could do perform such a legendary infiltration, and survive. Only a hero was strong enough.

But he was strong.

The boy was strong.

Nicos was strong.

And he would prove it.