"It's a consideration. If there are other camps with more Mabari it will be worse, because they'll know what was happening here and convey it to their masters in some way." That was always a risk in fights like this, something they couldn't prevent.

"This, however, went very well. Early victories are always good for morale." He doesn't look injured. The blood on him isn't his and much of it is soaked into the black tabard.

"I'm glad no one made it through. They foolishly chose a camp with only one access point. Not sure what they were thinking with that. I doubt all of them will be so sloppy." That's the other uncertainty with dealing with raiders. Sometimes they're uncouth, disorganized ruffians. Sometimes they're shrewd gangs with a multi-national presence and network that rivals the Coterie's. There's no way to know which is which on quick and dirty raids until the fighting starts.

"Let's get everyone back together. We can't linger." He claps him on the shoulder and steps past him to start rounding up the men. He only glances toward the cages to make sure no beast is left to suffer. Letting out a soft sigh, he moves on, mostly using hand signals to coordinate. They leave the fire burning. A sudden dousing would be more suspicious than just allowing it to burn out. Nine men and three women dead in less than an hour. It's not bad for a start, he thinks. The night beckons. They're off again.