The... thing in the lead looked back at the others. Walther could see no obvious signal or command given, but the others began to spread out. Those that didn't already have weapons out drew them. The leader began to walk slowly towards him, hands held out slightly, but not in an aggressive pose. "Who's there?" He... it called out, obviously directing the question to Walther.

Beetle and Teion were further back. They saw the creatures spreading out and heard the lead one call out. It didn't seem like the things had noticed the two of them yet.

All around them once dead bodies were moving, standing up and starting to walk off. Moonlight glinted off of blood soaked armor and blades held loosely in rotting hands. There was at least a score of them scattered around Walther, Beetle and Teion and from the sounds of it, many more in the darkness. 

Walther had been moving tactically towards the wagons when the first of the dead rose up, just to the left of his path.  He turned sharply and looked for new cover but all he found was more of the dead rising around him.  His hand went for his sword but stayed its completion when he realized that the dead were not interested in Beetle and him.  A quick look to the west showed that Teion was equally uninteresting.

Walther, Teion and Beetle continued walking down the path towards Ettermoor. They had left the healer and the seer behind with the injured Vatril soldier. It was just the three of them now. The dishonest, treasonous even, ones had fallen away, leaving only those truly loyal to Anaheer.

There seemed to be fewer and fewer bodies the further they went. They were still quite a ways from Ettermoor and the Anaheer army. It would be a long night's travel to get there.

Walther took stock of his shortened column.  The troll trainer, Beetle, had been a real trooper and performed his duties well, something for which the officer was grateful in the face of the others' intransigence.  He was someone Walther felt could be counted upon, come what may.

A wolf howled in the distance as the odd group of people crossed the battlefield. The night turned the bodies of the dead were turned into mere shadows, mounds rising out of the darkness. Rank and allegiance were lost in the shadows. Only the occasional glint of moonlight on metal distinguished one from another. Countryman or foe, it mattered not in the end. They were all dead. The path from the remains of the Vatril camp was a rough beaten road made by the regular traffic of soldiers and supplies to and from Ettermoor. It was relatively straight and clear enough that it could be traversed easily, even in the dark. However, signs of the battle persisted even here. Bodies were strewn along the path, cut down while they tried to run.

The last sliver of sun slipped below the horizon. A crescent moon was rising, but even with the moon and stars it was quickly becoming quite dark. The troll began to snore loudly. The carrion birds were quieting down, retreating to the trees to sleep.

Though tired Lonna scrambled back as fast as she could from the attack, surprise and fear written on her face. She didn't move fast enough. The sword slammed into the center of her chest, right below the ribcage, the point piercing through all the way out her back.