The clan marched ever onward. The very real threat of Dominion soldiers bearing down on them made tensions run high. The fact that it was dragged out by two more days only made matters worse.

In the bright afternoon sun, warning came from the distance before it could arrive by messenger. A cloud of brown dust rose up from behind the clan, drifting upwards and to one side with the soft breeze. It was getting closer.

Also from behind the clan was a sprinting Senche, one of the clan's scouts that was rotated out from hauling supplies due to the need for fast communication. The walking clan noticed him quickly as he frantically ran through. Anyone who did not notice him in time was showered with sand as he leapt clean over them or dodged around them. Without regard to covering the clan leadership's lower half in sand, the scout slid to a halt in front of Ri'nakhad, Ra'jorr, Meesei, and Gallus. He had fear in his eyes as he caught his breath.

Everyone's attention was immediate, so the scout quickly scraped aside some sand to get a flat surface and wrote down a number in Ta'agra glyphs: [i]24[/i]. Another word followed, but it was unclear in the loose, dry sand: [i]mounted[/i]. Once the scout looked up to confirm that all had read them, he scraped the sand aside and wrote one more short word: [i]elf[/i].

"I take it our noble protectors are approaching?" Gallus asked with a frown.

The dust seemed to be getting faster as time went on. Keen lycan ears could hear the thudding of hoofs in the distance. They would only have two minutes or less.