The sun was beginning to set when something finally began to happen in the forest. As if pushed into being by a monster -a possibility Nick filed away for later- fog once again poured into the forest. It wasn't alone either. With an unnatural screech, the sound of encroaching footsteps pushing past bushes and snapping fallen branches began to reverberate exactly where Nick predicted it to. Without a sound, Nick relayed the final orders. "Do not fire until either I get the order, or they pass the last man," Nick said, voice as quiet as possible.<br/><br/>The commander slid his rifle off of where it had been perched, adjusting it to face the other direction, all while trying not to draw attention to his position. Mere moments later, the sounds were beneath him, walking by. The moans were muted, probably due to the parasites wanting a bit of stealth as they marched. Nick made note of appearance and state of possession, putting a timeline on when they were infected. While doing this, he notice something he recognized: the out of place actions of a cultist, perhaps the same from before. He had walked up and past Nick's tree in the middle of the pack and stopped a few dozen yards past Nick towards the front lines to wait next to a tree. Nick found his target and lined his sights up, ready to take the shot when the time was right.<br/><br/>And the time soon became right, as the last few petered past below him and the few told to hold position. Before the cultist could even move, a shot rang out from near the frontlines. Apparently the parasites were spaced oddly enough that when the last few passed, the first few would cross their back line. "Open fire," Nick near silently ordered, readjusting his sights on the angry cultist type leading the shamblers forward. It was a maelstrom of reports from across the forest, as dozens of rifles went off on various targets, Nick's included. The thing to throw off his shot was that fact he was one of the later ones to shoot, and someone had shot close to the cultist. Either way, Nick was able to wing him, tearing a hole in the man's arm. It was dangling there, barely attached with bits of flesh. The parasite seemed to enjoy this host as well, because as soon as it could, the cultist's body stood and began to bolt back towards the Lake, ordering the shamblers to continue forward.<br/><br/>"Bad contact," Nick said, cocking the bolt of his rifle back. "Enemy commander fleeing. Anyone have a shot?"