At first glance, the village looked run-down. However, a closer examination showed signs of deliberate damage. Gouges in the ground, broken boards, ripped hides. Lyncis moved forward, her eyes roving over everything around her, gathering information. There were indications of normal village life, a child running there, an adult carrying a load elsewhere. But there was something strange. Some tracks just...stopped. Like the person had simply lay down to nap, nothing violent. But it was the locations. In the middle of a path. At the side of a shack. Beside a cart, with the load still atop it, rotting. And where those indentations in the ground were --
-- something else began. Tracks like nothing Lyncis had ever seen before. And Lyncis had seen a lot. The strange tracks wandered off in a haphazard manner, but there were newer tracks atop those. Ones with purpose. That was when she spotted it. Broken arrow shafts, all bearing Reckhart's fletching. Pieces of a broken buckler bearing Duvorn's symbol. The pouch that Lougias always carried on him, even though no one knew what it contained.
Lyncis involuntarily began moving faster, with a tinge of despair. The struggle moved back into the gathering of huts. Dried blood spatters were here and there, but with no indication whether the source had been friend or foe. Lyncis was nearly running now. Her eyes rose, and she spotted something that gave her a futile hope. One of the huts had damage all over it, but the holes that acted as windows and door had been barricaded. The boards covering the holes were flimsy and appeared to have been clawed at, but seemed to have largely held. The top half of the boards over the door seemed to be a bit loose, though.
Just as Lyncis was going to cautiously investigate, she heard rustling from the woods behind her. Her pursuers had caught up to her. With no time to think, Lyncis quickly moved aside the boards at the top of the door, slipped inside, and replaced the barricade. She slid to the floor against the wall, crouching in anticipation of an attack should the door be breached.
Breathing. Not from outside, but from inside the hovel with her!
The hut was small, but a makeshift table had been overturned, blocking her view of the back of the room. Peeking quickly through a gap in the barricade, Lyncis was relieved to see nothing had yet left the woods to investigate the village. Deciding to deal with the more immediate problem, Lyncis silently made her way around the edge of the table. The breathing was even, but somewhat irregular. Two pairs of lungs! There were definitely at least two. But did they belong to friend or foe?
Lyncis' breath caught slightly in her throat, but she maintained her silence. Finally, she got a view of the back half of the room.