Raindrops trickled down the rough beast-hide cloak.
Glack, the Jackal-Wolf Folk, squatted on the slanted wooden watchtower. His soaked fur clung to his skin, making him itch all over. He scratched at the fleas on his neck, caught one, and stuffed it in his mouth before squinting his glowing red eyes towards the distant muddy wilderness.
"Damn rainy season."
The Jackal-Wolf Folk muttered a curse under his breath, his throat rumbling with a discontented growl.
The territory of the Red Eye Clan—Wailing Cliff.
This was a complex of mixed buildings made up of natural rock caves and shabby wood shelters.
The Jackal-Wolf Folk weren't skilled builders, but they were adept at looting. The crooked wooden stakes had dried heads hanging from them, some belonged to beasts, others to unfortunate caravan travelers.
There were even a few belonging to the Jackal-Wolf Folk themselves.
Those were traitors or cowards executed by the Commander.
