[Dark Elite_H2]

Sly looked over his shoulder, then grinned back up front under his shower of bristles.
"Knew they'd follow..." Sly said.
"Fine, whatever! Jist, get us outta the rain!" Slogann barked. He pushed through the denser brush and trees, until he stopped abruptly at opening a thick brush. His eyes glinted widely, not even blinking at the thing in front of him.
"Uh, guys?" Sly called loudly back. "I think you'd better come see this!" he shouted, then looked back. It was a basement camp, destroyed and caught on fire. Dead bodies of Sligs laid tattered and bloody on the ground. It was an assault, of something.
"Couldn't've been Sligs! Sligs on sligs don't make sense!" Slogann blinked up to Sly. He grumbled thoughtfully, darting his eyes quickly to other parts of the smoking camp.
"Why didn't we see the smoke, first of all?" Sly demanded to himself.
"The trees are pretty thick to see through," Slogann snapped back up. High-pitched trills of squeals filled the air. Sly jumped away, listening intently.
"I know those kind of barks," Slogann perked an ear up. The trill squawked in the air again, and both of them looked at each other.
"Gloktigi," the both said in fearful unison. Uproars of grumbly voices filled the air. It was traveling away from the camp.
"Trained Gloktigi," the both said again. The voices trailed off deeper in to the forest.
"This is bad. Really bad," Slogann whined.
"I know. We should go tell the others," Sly said. He turned around, and scrambled through the rough forest ground again. "Guys! GUYS! STOP!" Sly shouted. "There's something wrong up ahead!"