Oblivious to the occurrences back at the settlement, Clotho fluttered back toward the camp of the Overlord.  She trusted the situation behind her to sort itself out in the most appropriate way possible: either her allies' strength prevailed and proved their worth, or their foolishness and weakness got them killed.  Either way, the outcome suited her, for both, in their own ways, would be justice.  On the way to the Horde, she ascribed to no flight-pattern in particular, for her daring aerial maneuver back at the orc encampment had torn open the wound in the small of her back.  Each beat of her wings strained her muscles, and given how many times each beat per second, the cumulative pain could not be ignored.  With the composure of a commander, however, Clotho returned to base with no sign of hurt more visible than gritted teeth.  

Dutifully she made a beeline for the habitation of her master and waited to deliver her report.  When he could spare her attention, she knelt slowly, and told him, [color=9F8170]"Sir.  The advance party discovered a large orc camp.  We performed reconnaissance there and got a rough idea of their numbers, armament, and leadership.  During this time, however, we were separated, and an unrelated fight among the orcs drew the attention of the demon Torrens, who decided to attack.  D'Artagnan leaped to assist him.  Faeles and I remained undetected.  I left them behind under the impression that they could handle a platoon of orcs with ease, but I can return to assist them if you so desire."[/color]

After the Overlord made his reply, even if it were only to acknowledge that the report had been given, Clotho left quickly.  She spent a few minutes among her insect troops, making sure that they would be ready for battle on a moment's notice, before retiring to a tree.  A couple moments' rest before she returned to her orders would do far more good than harm.  Stretching her limbs, the swarm queen attempted to keep her wings still.  The arrow to the back might have just as well have been a curse, with all the agony it caused.  Unlike many members of the horde, Clotho's body was purely organic in nature; she couldn't simple ignore or flash-regenerate any wounds.  Still, in a way she welcomed the pain.  It reminded her that she was alive--that she was fighting and surviving for something she believed in.  Before all this, she mused, what she had been doing had not been living.