Neddryn could almost taste the rukh-shami on the air. He crouched with Solae and Tazinil up along the ridgeline, squinting down into a ditch one of the La’aln caravan masters had marked out as being a favorite hideout for rukh-sham raiders harassing the trade routes. Solae was shifting unhappily next to him, but that was normal. Neddryn poked him in the gut and received a glare for his trouble.
“Yer gonna wake the entire rukh-sham nation with yer belly-achin’,” Neddryn hissed at him.
“Or you will,” returned Solae.
On his other side, Tazinil slithered out from his position, crawling down into the ditch on his elbows. Neddryn watched him with narrowed eyes, considering disciplining him for moving without orders, but the thought suddenly eased. Tazinil wasn’t part of his company in the Division, and so Neddryn wouldn’t be blamed if the young akor’mar got killed for not following his commands.
There was something else to that thought, something annoyingly important that Neddryn couldn’t remember.