The corpses of the Bloodfang Orcs had been pushed into the chasm, swallowed by the roaring wind and darkness. No markers, no graves. Only the falling snow, which had begun again, covered the black bloodstains on the stone floor of the recess.
Nihil cleaned the blade of his Elven sword with a handful of snow. His movements were methodical, emotionless. Beside him, Elara was examining the supplies they had looted from the Orcs—hard, dried meat, skin water bags, and some crude flint.
"Low nutritional quality," Elara muttered, scanning the meat with her device. "But high in calories. It will be enough to maintain our body temperature for three days."
"We move now," Nihil said, sheathing his sword. "Blood attracts predators. And in these mountains, Orcs are only mid-level in the food chain."
