522 Those Who Hunt Humans

"So," asked the father, "what do you think of our hunting camp?"

"The walls there and there could use a pole or two to brace them, and I haven't seen enough ditches or other traps. Also, it's... it's just not hidden very well." I said.

"And from what would we be hiding?" the son asked. "The slavefolk have sent the bulk of their forces south. The duskskins gathered, and are even now moving south to cut off their supply lines and, they bragged, to cut the head from their khan. That makes us the most potent fighting force of the southern scrublands." <1 >

"Still," I said. "This camp can hold at most thirty, unless there is an underground layer. You have good arrow coverage, but a unit of a hundred or so footsoldiers can still wipe this camp out."

"A hundred might manage that." Father agreed. "But definitely not less than sixty."

I blinked. "I was under the impression there were more soldiers than that at the Armpit."

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