Once the troops were outside the tree line, they began spreading according to Ludwig's instructions.
The mountain's shadow fell behind them the moment they crossed the last line of twisted trunks and thorned undergrowth.
Out here, the world opened wide, reed fields, wet soil, the river cutting a long silver-gray line across the plain, and beyond it the low swell of land where the Red Tusks had stopped to rest.
The air tasted damp and plant-bitter, and the breeze had nothing to break it anymore; it ran straight across the water and pressed cold against skin and armor seams. Ludwig didn't like open ground.
Open ground meant numbers mattered more than cleverness, and right now the enemy owned numbers like they owned cruelty.
The goblins went low, rushed through the reeds and low bushes. Mixing and camouflaging within, while the Lizardmen dove toward the water. Leaving nothing but their eyes out to see.
