Eight
Brice had only even seen warths from a distance. Training didn’t count. The simulations couldn’t rip your limbs from your body and tear out your insides before you fell to the ground, or plough into you so hard that your bones shattered.
He lowered into a crouch, just like Ryann, and peered through the trees. The wind and rain kept everything in motion. He might be looking straight at a warth and not even know it.
Brice waited. Ryann was good at this. She’d capture images from her lenses, and annotate them before passing them on to the crew. It would be like looking at one of those picture-within-a-picture things, where at first you see nothing, no matter how hard you stare, but once you uncover the hidden object, you can’t unsee it.
But no images came. He saw nothing beyond the
