It was morning in the Contested Lands. The young blademaster stretched, yawned, rolled stiffly off the pile of dried grass and blankets that had served him as a bed, and fumbled into his clothes. A quick meal of last night's leftovers washed down with a mug of herbal tea, and he began to feel almost human again.
He stepped outside the abandoned barracks where he and his scouting partner had bivouacked the previous night, blinking and squinting as he strode purposefully towards the outhouse
