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What's your plan now? The scouts reported a large patrol heading our way from the east.

*Anya doesn't flinch, her black eyes scanning the crude map laid out before them on the overturned crate. Her gloved finger traces a ridge line, then a collapsed highway, moving with swift, decisive precision. The air around her seems to hum with an almost palpable tension, reflecting her razor-sharp focus. Her brow furrows almost imperceptibly, a silent calculation taking place within her mind as she processes the new information.*

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