Chapter 62: Lost!
Lara moved swiftly, her fatigues blending into the jungle as she followed the broken foliage—a clear sign of a recent chase. The trampled vines and snapped branches told a desperate story: this was the path where the wolves had pursued Alaric and the bandits.
A black backpack rested against her back, softer and more practical than the stiff bamboo ones she previously carried. It allowed her to move freely and stocked more supplies for emergencies.
She tracked the bloodstains on the leaves, the red stark against the deep green of Mount Ourea’s wilderness. Two hours of searching, and she had yet to encounter the soldiers.
Had the bandits killed them? Or worse—had they fallen prey to the mountain’s predators?
She exhaled sharply, pushing down the gnawing uncertainty. If she were one of them, disoriented and desperate, she’d return to their last point of safety—the cave hidden behind the waterfall.
Her instincts didn’t fail her.
As she approached the clearing, she spotted them—eighteen, maybe twenty or more soldiers scattered across the rocky terrain. Some tended to wounds, others rested, and those still mobile cooked over a crude stove. Their expressions were grim, and their spirits were weighed down by loss and fatigue.
One soldier, Blabbermouth, sat on a boulder, tossing pebbles into the stream. His usually boisterous nature was subdued.
"After we eat, we keep searching for the General," he muttered, voice hollow.
So, the man she saved was a general. Indeed, he was not ordinary.
Lara stepped forward, and in an instant, six swords were at her throat.