He likes his dry humor, the look he cuts him saying as much. Once they're back out on the sandy path, he lets go of the previous encounter. It's over, and he wants to stay alert to their surroundings.

The first sign that something is amiss about half an hour later is the fact that all of the night insects have gone silent, not just near the path but in the further distance. The forward scout is visible on a rise in the path, suddenly stopping and swiveling his head to listen in the darkness. Cullen lifts a hand to stop the rest of the column, too.

A large blob of a shape with too many legs slams into the scout and disappears with him into the undergrowth so quickly he has no time to shout.

"Spiders!" Cullen shouts it instead. The undergrowth rustles loudly, then they're on them and in their midst, spraying sticky webbing and blobs of poison. One of them is bigger than a cow and frighteningly fast. It leaps directly onto Cullen and knocks him flat to the ground, slamming his air out of him in the process. Coughing and halfway dazed, he drags his shield up between his body and the spider's. He hears the scrape of sharp fangs over the metal and sees nothing but darkness.