Long moments pass in silence as Makita listens for signs of anyone nearby. Then she peeks up over her cover to examine the tracks. They're all clumped together and they move in a straight line. Precisely what Makita and Proto aren't doing. It's unprofessional, and likely to get you killed.

She estimates how old the tracks are and her hands flash a quick series of signals back to Proto. They're about half an hour behind whoever left these tracks.

When Makita moves forward again her movements are looser, more fluid, and her lip curls up in an hungry grin. None of her people would move that sloppily. All the ones who did are dead.