Morning came grey and cold, with speckles of chilly dew as the sun barely visible through the thick cloud cover rose to begin its journey once again.
Nero woke feeling marginally better, though his body was still a catalogue of injuries.
Still... he was alive, and that counted for something at least.
The group broke camp quickly. Within an hour, they were moving through the Southern Bogs and retracing their steps toward the main refugee encampment.
The journey back was tense but largely uneventful. They passed the sites of previous battles, stepping over the bones and rotting flesh of Abominations that had fallen days ago. The corruption here was thick enough to taste, existing as a metallic bitterness that clung to the back of the throat.
At least that was how it felt for Nero, who had suddenly become aware of the corruption that sweltered in the air.
Like a dark haze, it existed everywhere.
It was inevitable.
