Night has fallen and on the hilltop among thick trees the camp lies in conniving silence. Watchmen walk the perimeter of the grounds, unseen, while the wounded lie in well earned rest. There is a thick cloth covering around the woman’s hip, a shimmer of light red in the dark, as her breast heaves in troubled feverish dream. Tuilinneth in her hand clutches the arrowhead, removed from her flesh mere hours earlier.
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The Company Of Steel
