From the scene of carnage the band moved on, spirits dampened and hearts depressed.
The land seemed somehow to have lost it's color, to have taken on the Pit's lifeless character. There was no talk of singing now. The chatter which occurred was sullen and despondent, or fierce and swift. Faces were blank, gazes hard, and the whole of the band moved with weapons free.
There was a difference between comprehending that Cryxan forces were at large in the nation, and understanding it. The sight of their enemy's spoor had driven that understanding home to the members of Jardon's group, and robbed them of their ability to take joy in their release from the Pit.
Only Mayet seemed immune to the overall gloom, and she pressed Sansa and Jardon relentlessly with constant queries. Her voice was birdlike, high pitched and cheerful, Jardon found himself snapping his replies, perversely vexed that this slip of a girl was less affected by the sights behind than he.
"Yes" he replied, "I've known Brucker for quite some time now."
"Yes" he responded, "even before he was imprisoned."
"Yes" he answered, "we served together, back before the onset of the recent hostilities."
He noticed something odd, as they walked. Sansa had, in some moment when his attention had been diverted to the Thamarite, called the Ordic regulars over, and their trio had now practically joined the larger formation. This made far more evident the fact that his responses were the focus of all attention. He was about to remark on it when May cleared her throat.
"Oh, what's that?" He'd missed the last question. "Sorry, lass, my mind wanders."
"No worries, no worries, " she replied. "I was just asking what Solomon was sent away for?"
He looked over the assembled faces of the troops and sighed. That'd been what he thought she asked.