The afternoon sunlight was perpetually stretched by the gray-green spores clouds, and although noon was when the mucosal entities were least active, this pattern reversed at the junction of spring and winter.
Even under the constraint of sunlight, the once-frozen entities were invigorated by the more suitable temperature, slowly exhaling a grisly gray gas from their mouths and nostrils.
However, perhaps because their prey had not yet appeared, they made no unnecessary movements.
They just stood silently on the ravaged streets, their eyes vacant, facing the direction where the breath of life was most vibrant.
As if waiting for something.
Soldiers of the Alliance watched them, light and heavy machine guns mounted on the edge of the windows.
Now was not the best time.
They, too, were waiting—waiting for the mucosal entities to gather on the streets and then to call in artillery to rip them apart, followed by using machine guns to harvest the remaining remnants...
