The River Path

This choice just felt right to you. With water nearby and broad paths, the river seemed almost merciful compared to the other routes. The first day was largely uneventful. Sleeping arrangements were generally safe because of the plain fact that your numbers were undivided and watches were kept. You were surprised to find that no one had died or disappeared on the first night, a fact which also surprised most everyone else as well. 'Perhaps it is a good omen.' You thought as the second day began. All omens are good you suppose, it’s only a matter of whom the omen is good for, you or the creatures that might eat you. Early in the morning the march was resumed, that is until about midday. Sometime in the later hours of the day a storm gathered above your horde and rain began to pour. It was not a maelstrom mind you, but nonetheless it was enough to slow the pace significantly. You decided to settle early that second day and rest.

It was on the third day that calamity struck in the form of a vast and dense fog. At first you had hoped it was merely a singularly thick morning mist, but hours later you were certain it was not. It endured throughout the day, painting the forest around you a gloomy shade of gray. The mists of the valley are not so easily dispelled as those of the mountains, without ample sunlight they can last a day or two at a time here. The effect this had upon your number could scarcely be understated, not only was your sense of sight dulled to a staggering degree but your sense of smell suffered greatly against the vapors. It was almost noon by your estimation when things got much worse. There was a sound which you had been hearing for while now, that had begun to build in both tempo and volume since you first became aware of it. The light scuttling of insects was an unmistakable sound, especially when it is punctuated by the distinct sound of scraping chitin mouthparts. Naturally your sense of smell hadn't detected them yet as you were both upwind of them and your smell was hindered by the fog. The occasional scuttling became an excited chittering and that was your signal to move with greater haste. If what had surrounded you were the pine widows it was likely that they had already begun to form a great web between the trees to entrap your numbers before rushing in and driving you into their waiting webs, this was a trick they used often on gametrails against Elk. With your numbers it would be easy to fight them off, not to mention that your tusk blades could easily slice through their silk if escape became necessary. However it was not necessarily the spiders that worried you. The fact remained that the longer your horde lingered in any one place, the easier it would be for the larger beasts to find and tear apart.

Movement was the only option. Your trust in the group leaders pays off when they manage to get the groups organized quickly and ready to move. You set off at a moderate pace and follow the river closely. You hear shouts off and on for the next two or three hours as a few of your number were seized presumably by the hungry spiders.

Only once did you see one of the wretched creatures. It leapt from a tree into the midst of your group only to be quickly dispatched by your hunters with a spear to the lungs. The grotesque slate-black creature bore stripes and flecks of vivid green about its legs and abdomen, while sharp thornlike protrusions jutted out from the spaces near its joints. A dozen Stygian orbs gazed outward at us from its face, the menace in its eyes almost visible. Virulent ichor dripped from its lengthy fangs as it sputtered, squeaked, and stumbled falling onto its back and curling it’s legs into a ball.

None of the shouts that followed were from your group so you weren't in any position to lend aid and risk slowing your advance in the slightest, most of the shouts were too far behind you for you to even consider helping them. This damnable brume didn't give anyone much of a fighting chance though, and the relentless spiders could all but see right through it with those numerous little eyes of theirs. You turn to look behind you and motion one of the warriors to your side. "Tell me, how many lives have been lost today? I tell you, go to each of the group leaders and return with an answer to my question." His response was precisely what I would expect of any worthy Ardri warrior. "The screams that we have heard are the screams of those who are not quick enough to run, those not clever enough to escape, and those not strong enough to endure. The land is trimming the fat from our ranks as it always has. The only **** we have suffered today is the **** of weakness. Still, I will find your answer." As he turns to find the leaders you stop him, "Nevermind. Best to let them overcome on their own or die trying." You say.

Then came the water. Directly ahead of you a sizable creek cuts across your path, flowing into the river though you could not see it’s end. It appeared to be wide, how wide you could not tell due to the fog. To go around it would be time consuming but to go through it would put your group and all of those behind it in an entirely unknown degree of peril. You hadn't the slightest knowledge how deep the water was or how wide the stream was either much less what was in it. However you were certain that the spiders would not follow you across it.