The solemn air of the camp remained saturated with the silent rage and eerie, quiet murmuring of my seething warriors long into the night and well into the twilight hours of the day, as they suffocated the soothing evening breeze with it's gentle, seducing lullaby of wistful sleep with their incessant chatter, that began to mimic the chaotic chittering of bugs and birds; which even managed to mask the four hauntingly harrow, torturous piggish squeals that erupted mysteriously in the dead of night and ended shortly afterwards.
And all the while, I lounged on a chair in my rebuilt private tent, staring unflinchingly onto the crudely altered map I had hanging above my desk, as my fingers idly raked their way through Bellerophon's rapidly thickening ashen mane, much to the growing beasts obvious pleasure, as evidenced by the constant echo of his content purrs through out the night.
