Grunt, my massive Kobold Warlord, took out his new smartphone, his sausage-like fingers surprisingly nimble as he pulled up a tactical map of the area I had sent him. He began directing squads of kobolds to set up kill zones and choke points.
We were no longer the hunters. We were the prey, waiting for the wolves to descend.
The hours crawled by.
Night fell, and with it, a cold, tense silence.
I stayed within my metal shell, the disguise now more important than ever.
I watched the sky, waiting for the first, faint hint of gray on the horizon.
"Scout report," a whisper came over the comms from one of Chloe's bats.
"Massive movement detected. North. All of them. They are coming."
I looked at my commanders. Their faces were grim, illuminated by the cold, faint light of the stars.
"Positions," I said, my voice a low, final command.
The sun began to rise.
A thin, bloody line of red appeared on the horizon.
The dawn raid had arrived.
And we were waiting for it.
