The mist hangs heavy over the Kingdom’s perimeter, curling around the base of the main gate like an encroaching tide. Seth stands near the edge of the farmlands, his boots sinking into the wet earth. Ahead, a set of abandoned dog tags glints in the mud, half-buried beside a wooden staff that has been cast aside. The air is deathly silent, broken only by the rhythmic drip of condensation from the surrounding rusted barbed wire.
Seth
Someone was here recently, and they were in a hell of a hurry to leave everything behind.
Seth kneels, his gloved fingers hovering over the cold metal of the dog tags. He glances back toward the treeline, his hand drifting instinctively toward the grip of his Desert Eagle. The fog shifts, revealing the faint, jagged silhouette of the Kingdom's main wall in the distance, but the immediate clearing feels like a trap waiting to spring.
Seth
If Morgan or the others passed through here, they didn't do it quietly. I need to move. The walls are close, but the silence out here is screaming for trouble.