By the time they reached Cassim's trail, east of an old trade road, the Twelve Moons hung low, pale hooks over the jagged mountains.
The night air here was really dry. Not a single breeze moved. Even the stars above seemed reluctant to shine on the place they had found.
The scouts were right. There was a camp.
It sat before them, deep within the narrow valley.
But something was amiss.
Very unusual.
From their perch on the slope above, Malik's little warband was able to easily peer down on them, see what was what.
The campfires between large tents were all snuffed out, while wagons remained aligned to the sides without steeds. There was literally no sound in the camp. No movement. Not even the lazy clatter of soldiers whispering to one another outside.
Just... stillness.
"That's one obvious trap."
Kabir was the first to say what everyone thought.
"Even worse in this choke point."
