Not much reaction from his peers. It was reassuring to know they were focused. Battle was coming to them, whether they wanted it to or not, and<span style="font-style: italic">they</span>would be the ones taking down their opponents. He had only come out of their hole to make sure they didn't get killed in the process.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">"How about it Chizu?"</span>Farish whispered in Common speak.<span style="font-style: italic">"Any idea what we're up against?"</span><br/><br/><span style="color: #00FFFF"><span style="font-style: italic">"Filthy hell-spawns,"</span></span>she spat.<span style="font-style: italic"><span style="color: #00FFFF">"Not demons like before. Much worse. Antyr's mutts, but not the bottom-feeders from last time."</span></span><br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">Nothing good then,</span>Farish thought.<span style="font-style: italic">"Can you be more specific?"</span><br/><br/>If the Sprite knew more, she wasn't telling.<br/><br/>Waiting was agonizing. They already knew the bad guys were coming for them, and there was some element of suspense, but mostly, the boy just wanted to get it over with. Not the best attitude to walk into a fight with, but Farish disliked fights in general. Now, when they should be resting after their<span style="font-style: italic">first</span>battle, a group of evil horsemen or something was making them stay up and<span style="font-style: italic">wait</span>for them to arrive so they could then have<span style="font-style: italic">another</span>battle. To a pacifist expertly trained in defensive magic, battles seemed more tedious than exhilarating or frightening. The only reason he didn't make a comment along the lines of "they're taking too long" is because he was sure they'd come into range the moment he said it.