Rolled 3, 6, 3 = 12 (3d6)
>>6109214>>6109245>>6109304The hounds growl and paw the sand, but the troopers spread out under the shade of the trees and check the perimeter. The wind has died down. The air is . . . Thick is the wrong word, but somehow <span class="mu-i">weighted</span>. Six more steps towards the old crumbing walls and it feels like sixty. Scarlett crest a slight rise first and ducks under a old leaning tree. Catches their breath.
Spots a boot, half buried in the sand. Mass produced leather hardheel, type seven, surplus supply from some Reikan force on the Continent. Same boots issued to new recruits.
Catches Zhivka's eye. Points. No one wants to be first but someone eventually has to be. It's not the only pair of boots half buried in the sand, nor, alas, is it only boots out here . . .
>Sense 10, Hounds +2 