The Great Orrath did not care about the political maneuvering of human tribes. It did not care about alliances sealed with the tears of innocent girls, nor did it care about the despair hanging over the Veynar settlement like a suffocating shroud. The jungle only respected one universal law: the strong devoured the weak.
And Sol fully intended to be the one doing the devouring.
For three days following the disastrous meeting in the High Hall, the anticipated joint attack by the Zerith coalition and the Marauder packs did not happen. Instead, there was a calculated, agonizing silence. The enemy forces were massing just beyond the visual tree line to the south, their presence forming a heavy, sickly yellow bruise against the sky.
The Layer 4 Zerith warlords were playing a psychological game, letting the suffocating dread of the impending siege slowly grind down the defenders' nerves before a single spear was thrown.
