The harpy people descended in waves, gliding silently through the thick air, their sharp eyes piercing the gloom of the forest floor that surrounded the yawning maw of the cave.
At first, there had been certainty among them—a predator's confidence—as they believed they could easily snuff out the orcs and ogres who dared flee into the shadows. But that certainty had turned to frustration.
Each new trail they followed, every broken twig or overturned stone, led nowhere.
A sharp-eyed scout landed with a flurry of wings and hissed, "This makes no sense!"
He kicked a pile of disturbed stones scattered across the ground, sending pebbles skittering in every direction.
His talons clicked as he paced back and forth, his head twitching sharply as he scanned the surroundings. "They were here! I know they were here! Look at these marks!"