A chill ran up his spine as he knelt down. Soft earth had been imprinted with large, circular shapes. The shapes themselves went off in a line through the forest floor, each marked by crushed dirt or plants and broken twigs. They were tracks, pure and simple. Single toed much like a horse, but much wider. And bipedal.

“Jof, how big do you think this thing is?” The other man knelt beside him. The footprint went deep, almost enough for a man to trip in if he wasn’t paying attention. The man shook his head.

“Fuckin’ big, Casser.”

Casser sighed. “That’s what I was afraid of.” He stood, and Jof followed as he approached his unit. Lenn and Bronel stood apart, their gazes sweeping the area in opposite directions even as he approached, sparing no more than a cursory glance.

“Old Fred ain’t off his rocker, I take it?” Bronel asked.

“He might still be, but he was telling the truth about this, that’s for sure.”

“We headin’ out then?” Lenn asked.

“Yep. Let’s go,” Casser replied. He took point, as usual, and they followed. They walked along the side of the tracks, each member a good meter or two from the next, and each making sure to step inside the tracks Casser left behind.

Casser licked his finger and raised it slightly above his head, feeling the direction of the wind as it lightly blew past them. The tracks had a slight curve to them, slowly twisting to the left. The same direction the wind was blowing.

“Careful. We’re upwind,” he warned. They gave their quiet affirmations as they continued on. They couldn’t stop yet. Not until they confirmed it.

The tracks were new enough, having been set sometime after yesterday's rainfall. The creature’s gait was a long, but based on the imprints Casser was sure that it was walking. That gave them a good lead, but the clouds didn’t bode well. It’d rain again before long. He could feel it.

Birds chirped above, and the occasional squirrel or rabbit bounded out of view, rustling fallen leaves as they went. He sniffed the air, the scent of dirt filling his nostrils as his eyes scanned the forest in front of them. Light drops of rain water began to fill his ears with their sound.

White light reflected off of distant waters. A bog, he thought at first, but as the drew closer he realized it was a full pond. The tracks led to the water’s edge, footprints obscured by a mess of sunken dirt and grass. The creature had knelt down, likely to drink from the water. Looking down, Casser saw his own reflection. A man in green armor, covered in leaves, face obscured by a helmet that bore antlers like an elk. Beneath the reflection he could just make out the bed of mud, flat and undisturbed. It had not entered the water.

The pond was large enough, many meters across and littered with algae and floating plants. No doubt filled with leeches and other parasites. Casser could feel the thirst in his throat, a subtle dryness upon his tongue. It would rain soon enough. At least, he hoped, for the sake of his throat, though at the same time he knew it would mean more work down the line.

They turned from the pond and continued their pursuit. It made no more stops, and neither did they as they followed. Soon enough the light of day had begun to fade, the forest becoming darker by the minute. Though the rain hadn’t picked up completely, what was a light sprinkle had become full sized dollops of rain water. Good for masking their smell, but they were out of their depth. These were the woods of the frontier, and it was time to turn back.

Casser held a hand up as he stopped, soon followed by the sound of his men following suit. “We’re heading back,” he said. They offered no complaints, no words of gratitude. They were silent as Casser passed them by, switching places Jof to once again take point.

“Casser.” He heard his name just as passed Lenn. He turned back, only to see Jof pointing to the sky and his men looking up. Above the treeline he saw it. Grey clouds, and a line of black smoke splitting them in two.

“Fire,” Bronel muttered. Fire indeed. Casser approached as silently as he could in the light of dusk, his men falling in line behind him. They circled downwind as they approached, flames finally coming into view. It was a campfire. A big one, above which was the roasting carcasses of several boar. The smell traveled downwind to them, his stomach protesting the senses of his nose and eyes.

Houses of sticks and mud surrounded the fire. It was a village, of sorts. One empty of life, all while a meal of meat sat cooking. He turned, the faces of his men aglow, their eyes gleaming. “They know we’re here,” he said.