It was a victory, certainly, but it was hollow… for even if these beings were alien, the visceral reality of war and the finality of death hung heavy in the humid air, tempering any urge to gloat.
She remained silent for a long while, a revered acknowledgement that death, regardless of whom, was a burden that only grew heavier with each battle won.
"Thauren," She finally commanded, her voice ringing out clearly across the silent settlement. "Disarm every single survivor. Gather all the weapons. Secure the granaries, seize their venom vats, and inventory their cured hides.
Separate those who fought from those who did not. I want a full count before full dark."
"Yes, Warchief!" Thauren saluted sharply and immediately began barking orders.
